Strictly Patrician
by the-red-robyn
Summary: CH 16: Caesar's plan to seperate Brutus and Porcia is put into action. This leads to a furious arguement between the pair. Marcus goes on following Posca while Octavia flees the city. Finally, Caesar and Antony find something very interesting. R&R.
1. 1: Damnum Roma

**To all readers: I have done a slight re-working of the earlier chapters. The storyline hasn't changed, but I thought I'd just let you all know that I am currently working on a tiny improvement thing. If you are reading this and see a (!) at the top of the page, it means I have edited it.**

**To first time readers: The story is currently in two parts. All chapters with a "1" are in the POV of Porcia and all chapters with a "2" are third person with Porcia just as the main character.**

This story is written through the eyes of one of the character omitted from Rome HBO, Porcia, who was the daughter of Cato. Porcia is stuck with not only with the trail of looking after her useless husband's children (who are her own age) and her drunken brother (whom she calls little despite that fact he is older) but with life both unsatisfying and boring. Although a stoic herself, Porcia is a woman and therefore weak--according to her father--therefore she is ready to bend the rules the stoic laws state. With Cato as the only role model you have, wouldn't you go looking for other friends?

**I don't own HBO: Rome, HBO/BBC do. The characters, although dramatised by HBO: Rome and/or myself, are based on actual persons and cannot be owned; they are people, but their names are out of copyright. They've been dead for more then 100 years, some 2000 in fact. Anyway, enjoy!**

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I will write this down despite my weariness—I don't know how long I'll be stuck out here. Father says we'll only be here a few months, but I know it'll be more. It's always more. My brother Marcus says I think too much, and I think maybe he's right—the fact that I have thought about _that_ proves his point. I do think an awful lot; more than my dear drunken brother at least. The fact that I think too much is a pain and a curse. It is why I am here now, writing this. I believe Cicero writes down his many thoughts in letters, but I have no one worth writing to. So I have decided to write them in these old, un-stained scrolls. It was my Aunt Porcia's idea.

My name is Porcia Catonis of the Porcii Salonii, daughter of Cato and his first wife, Atilia. I know not many people are willing to read the words of a woman, thinking them dull and stupid. My father always said I was smarter and braver than my brother. There are only the two of us in my family. I am the younger sibling and he is the elder. Many people think that we are twins or that I am the elder child, but, no, I am three years younger then him. I was born during the year of the consulships of Quintus Marcius Rex and Lucius Caecilius Metellus. It was the same year that Lucius Lucullus, the husband of my Aunt Servililla (or Lilla as we called her), defeated Tigranes II of Armenia in the Battle of Artaxata.

I remember little of my childhood. The only thing I do remember is that I spent a great deal of it with my cousins Prima, Secunda, and Tertia. We were normally under the watchful eyes of my darling tutor, that annoying Greek Statyllius, or my eldest cousin Brutus. My cousin Brutus was the only person who was kind to me in my youth. His mother, my auntie Servilia, hated me as she hated all our side of the family, and her daughters behaved like spoilt brats towards me as well.

There are only three occasions that I recall in my childhood. The first was the time when I was six and my brother Marcus found some of the horrible, cheap wine that my father only ever took out on special days (and even then he never drank from it). My brother became drunk and Father locked him in his room for it. The next day I noticed that my mother was gone and when I asked Father where she was he told me I would never see her again. She had committed adultery, he said, and she was a whore and not worthy to look after us. Marcus wept but I didn't cry. I was so scared by what my father told me—he said that if I was ever to be unfaithful to my husband, he would give my husband full permission to kill me.

The second occasion I can recall took place not long after this. I was weaving one day and made a mess of my work. My Aunt Servilia saw and was furious with me. She grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me to her wardrobe. She threw me into the wardrobe and locked the door, telling me that I had to learn to behave myself. She let me out some hours later, saying that she had forgotten about me. I did indeed learn my lesson that day—I have never since done a poor piece of weaving.

The third thing I can remember is the talks about Caesar that I overheard during my childhood. When Caesar went to Gaul it was at the head of the Legio XIII, lent to him by Pompey. If I recall correctly, in return for this legion, Pompey received Caesar's daughter Julia in marriage. She was supposed to marry Faustus Cornelius Sulla, the son of the dictator. I also heard rumours, however, that she was supposed to marry my cousin Caepio—no doubt some part of an amazing scheme that Aunt Servilia and Caesar cooked up together. I was only nine or ten at the time that all this was going on.

I can only remember a little of my childhood, but I can see my teenage years clear as glass.

Pater forced me to marry Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus when I was just nearly thirteen. He simply brought me into his presence one day and told me about the marriage, saying that it was an honour that was being bestowed upon me. Marriage to a man some thirty years older then me certainly didn't feel like an honour. My husband's sons Gnaeus and Marcus were older then me—one of them was already twenty-five! Bibulus' previous wife had given him many children, including a daughter, Calpurnia (who I call Calpurnilla), that was just my age. She constantly looked down on me. The youngest child, Lucius, is my favourite, though my love for Calpurnilla has grown since the early days of my marriage to her father. As for my husband, he developed a worrying _amor_ for me and I found myself feeling deathly guilty that I didn't return his _diligo_. I admit that Bibulus was a great man; he opposed the so-called great Caesar and even had the veneratio of sharing a consulship with him. Of course, it cost Caesar a fortune and he intended to use all the power he could to get the most out of it. He publicly humiliated my father and Bibulus, assaulting them in the street with his goons. I still didn't understand the problems of politics.

Around this time, Bibulus' power was shrinking. My father had other men asking for my hand in marriage, one of which was Pompey, who asking for me to marry one of his sons. In fact, after Julia's death, even Pompey sought me out for himself. There was also the great orator Quintus Hortensius, an extremely influential figure in Rome and rival of Marcus Tullius Cicero, another friend of the family. I was on talking terms with Cicero's daughter Hortensia; she was married to my father's elder brother, my uncle Quintus Servilius Caepio. My father was naturally tempted by these offers, but his loyalty to Bibulus was too strong. Moreover, Bibulus refused to part with me, and that was one of the reasons why my father was forced to refuse the other men. My father, however, still needed Hortensius. So in the end, he divorced my stepmother, Marcia, and gave her to Hortensius in marriage!

Presently, Caesar has crossed the Rubicon. I am seventeen-years-old, and I will be eighteen in June. My husband woke me in the middle of the night and ordered me to prepare. He told me that everyone in our family, including the women and children, was fleeing the city. I don't have any children of my own. I spend the majority of my time caring for Bibulus' children by his second wife; the ones by his first are grown up and older then me. I woke Lucius and Calpurnilla in the night, helped them dress and sent them out to the courtyard where their brothers, Gnaeus and Marcus were waiting. I had my personal slave, Sylvia, pack my things and then I went out to meet the children.

We made our way through the streets as hundreds of civilians threw their rubbish at us, cursing us for leaving them at the mercy of Caesar. They fled to their homes and boarded up their houses, terrified of what would happen. Many others were fleeing along with my family; there was Metellus Scipio and his beloved son Salvito, who brought along his wife Scribonia and her son Marcellinus, a boy who was Calpurnilla's age. Scribonia's father came also, and Scribonilla too (She was the wife of one of Pompey's sons.) Father naturally ran along side us, talking to Bibulus the whole time. There was also Cicero, who I always thought of as too soft to take up the harsh conditions of the Italian countryside if it were not in his country villa.

I walked alongside my husband's carriage most of the way. Even when the sun began to rise, the grey clouds that hung in the air obscured any light that would have beat down. Up ahead, I saw Claudia, the wife of my cousin Brutus. Seeing as my own husband was asleep (and snoring somewhat loudly) I rushed up towards Claudia, calling her name. I was breathless from all the walking but I preferred it to being cooped up in a litter, and my father had always adored modesty—that's why he preferred me over my drunken brother Marcus. I also thought the walking would help keep up my energy, being that I normally go for long walks around the forum.

Claudia was obviously not used to all the walking—she was flushed and gasping for breath when I came up to her. She gave me a harsh look and walked on. "Oh, it's you."

"It's me," I said catching my own breath. I must have looked quite comical. "It's a pity Caesar moved too quickly for Pompey to gather his legions. I don't know how he did it—the Alps are deathly this time of year."

"All you ever do is talk!" Claudia snapped. I was taken aback but tried to remember that she was tired.

"So, Brutus decided to side with Pompey did he, how very odd…" I mused loudly.

"Why is it odd?" Claudia panted.

"Well, you know why—republic or not, Pompey had his father killed," I replied. "Together with the fact that Caesar is as a father to him, I would have expected him to remain in Rome. One would think that Aunt Servilia would have made him stay—"

Claudia looked at me, "Why are you talking to me?"

"You looked as if you needed something to take your mind off the walking and the cold," I said pulling my coat around me.

"Well I don't!" Claudia snapped before then touching her head with her hand and shaking it, "I'm sorry, Porcia. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just so tired—I know you mean well. Things just aren't going well for me, Porcia. You wouldn't imagine how bad things are."

I laughed and placed my hand on her shoulder, "Is it something you can share?"

She shook her head, "It's so shameful!"

"In my father's opinion, as long as it isn't adultery, it's not shameful for a woman," I told her, quoting what my father had told me the day I married my husband. It was probably to scare me into my virtue. "It isn't a lover, is it?"

Claudia laughed hysterically, "As if! My role as a wife is a failure in other areas. I dare not say them, if that is all right with you."

I nodded, "Of course, it's your secret to tell and it's best to keep it to yourself if you fear it'll get out."

Suddenly, someone behind us began singing a cheerful song, trying to keep up the spirits of his sons who were getting bored with the harsh traveling conditions. Very soon everyone began singing the song, some in tune and some out of tune. My brother Marcus held his hands over his ears; a night without drink must have been going to his head. Claudia and I laughed.

I heard the feeble voice of my father summon me to the front of the procession of nobles and knights where our general and leader Pompey was. I turned to face Claudia, "Are you coming?"

She shook her head and smiled, "I'll die if I have to run up there—besides, Pompey, Cato, Cicero, Scipio, not to mention my husband Brutus—will all talk politics. I find myself wondering why the sky is so grey when men talk of politics. Excuse me."

I gave her a girlish hug before I sped off to the front. I rushed as fast as I could past the families, the slaves, and dear Cornelia and her children, up to where my father was walking alongside Pompey. Behind us the singing was still going on, and other people had now joined in. Cassius turned his head and yelled back at them, "Shut up back there!"

"You're just jealous because you can't sing" I teased. He raised his eyebrows and I gave a fake smile.

"Porcia," my father said holding out his arm and guiding me to his side, "Tell me—you know the politics of Caesar, what do you think he'll do when he gets to Rome?"

"He'll be declared dictator in the same manner that Sulla was when he took his armies into Rome. The senate, or what's left of it, are all Caesar's supporters and cowards who feared leaving their houses for fear they'd be looted. They're not going to oppose Caesar and certainly not when he has the _Legio XIII_ at his hand," I explained, "Naturally, he will declare martial law—not to keep control but to keep the peace. Finally, he will gather what is left of the patrician families in Rome and bribe some of them into aiding him in maintaining control."

"You seem very sure," commented Cassius.

"I am sure," I replied. "Caesar won't kill our friends, he wants to be looked on as a merciful ruler, so killing off our friends would make him appear as a tyrant and make us look like the injured party. That's the last thing he wants."

"How do you know all this?" Cassius snapped annoyingly.

"It's not a hard thing, Cassius. It's called logic," I retorted, "You should try it some time—they might just start listening to you in the senate."

Cicero, who had been listening, rolled his eyes. The only one who dared to smirk was Brutus. It made me remember Claudia, and wonder what could possibly be wrong with her. She said she'd failed as a wife, but she wasn't the type to be unfaithful, she could sew and weave and do various other things, and she wasn't ugly—so what could it be, I wondered? I walked to my cousin's side and smiled. He was always a laugh to be around, and he was my favourite cousin. I suppose I love him in my own way.

"I thought you would have stayed in Rome, cousin," I said, not really looking at him as I said it. It always angered father how close Brutus and Caesar were. "I heard that Atia was going down and ready to take you and Aunt Servilia with her."

"You know very well that the mob turned their anger on the senate once they saw you all leaving," Brutus replied. He was walking fast and it was hard to keep up with him.

"Brutus, did your mother come?" I asked shyly. I feared Servilia above all others. When other little girls were scared of monsters hiding under their bed or in their wardrobe, I was scared of my aunt Servilia and the closet which she used to lock me in. "I haven't seen her yet."

"No" he replied plainly, with a tang of annoyance in his voice, "She decided to stay in Rome—no doubt because Caesar."

"Weak!" my father spat, overhearing our conversation, "Weak—all women! Weak!"

"So why did you come?" I asked Brutus, ignoring my father's outburst, "I thought Caesar was like a father to you."

"The republic is more important," he said simply.

"If you say so..." I replied, wondering how my funny cousin Brutus who hated politics could suddenly want to fight for the republic. He hated politics and made any excuse not to join the senate. Funny cousin Brutus—first time for everything I suppose.

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**Some of the characters have been created for the purposes of this story. All of the characters, with the exception of Porcia's stepdaughter Calpurnilla, are based an historical characters.**


	2. 1: Ululatus nox noctis

With Cato as the only role model you have, wouldn't you go looking for other friends? Building bonds with other outcasts such as Pompey's ill-lucked wife Cornelia and the over-talking politician Cicero, she also finds herself making a emotion match with someone who her father would not approve of.

**Obviously I don't own Rome... HBO and BBC do, lucky devil!**

**To readers: If you are reading this and see a (!) at the top of the page, it means I have edited it.**

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Barely outside the security of Rome, we haven't even seen a battle yet, and I been given the role of tending to the wounded and dying. You probably wonder, "what dying?" Truth is that it has killed some of the older, fater and out-of-shape senators just walking to this end of Italy. Cornelia says that some of the men and women on foot had been walking non-stop and some who were not used to it were suffering from colds and illnesses. It seems that finally all my long walks in the forum have paid off as I haven't even picked up a cough. The place where the sick are being nursed is nearly half a mile from where the soldiers are. This is to avoid what few men we have falling ill. The sick tents are right near where we women are living with the children; obviously, Pompey doesn't think it matters if the women fall sick and die.

All day the men worked to put this place together, and the very next day they took it down again as we walked on. It is not surprising that some of them have fallen sick. Spending all day with them though, I am quite convinced that some of them are pulling a fast one on us just to get out of building the forts and camps. I play along; it seems hard work.

At night I couldn't sleep from the screaming of the men that Pompey's son, Quintus, was torturing. The previous night, I could hear the wailing in my dreams. I couldn't escape. It terrified me when I awoke and I found myself hearing the dying cries of a peasant man. In my dreams I feel the screams rising up and up and up. I always awake covering my ears.

When I casually mentioned it to my father that it was upsetting my sleep, he called me weak and told me to pull myself together. He said that Stoics don't show weakness of any sort, even over dreams. My father has always taught me to be a stone wall stoic, some today would call it "Catonian" after my great-great-grandfather, Cato the Censor. It's a rough way to live if you're just thrown into it, but if taught it from an early age the ways of life of a Stoic can become part of your life, and it's all I have ever known. Another lifestyle would probably leave me lost and confused; unless there was someone there to look after me... but then that would be weak, and the stoics don't like weak.

I was taught that the virtues of love were not worthy characteristics of a human being. I once told my father that it was him that I loved and I didn't need a mother. He yelled that love was not a virtue and that I shouldn't love or wish to be loved. He told me that love was a weakness. He then said I reminded him of our true origins; the Censor had been married twice, first to an ancient plebeian and second to a young slave whom he freed out of love—we Salonii are the fruit of that slave—of that love.

He just scolded me and said that if I were to ever fall in love, it would be the ultimate weakness, even for a woman. But then women are weak, aren't they? So I might just dare to break that rule one day, if the right man comes along and sweeps me off my feet. I know I ought to cross this line out; should Bibulus come across this he might just deem me a whore, like my mother and aunts, but I'll leave this line be. There is no man in my life worth dropping virtue for, and that is something—as my husband isn't every girl's dream husband. Now I _should_ cross that lie out...

My brother is soft, and a drunkard, and yet he was never given the endless talks of being stoic. Father appears to have given up all hope of making him his model heir and senator. Marcus, my silly brother, spends days and night weeping over some girl while drowning himself at the bottom of a wine flask, and when he never listens to reason—wouldn't you give up too? As long as he's happy I suppose, some short lives are full. Good luck to you, dear brother! Yet, while my brother is allowed to live his life to its full, my father looked to me for wisdom and opinion. So my father enjoyed putting my brother down—since he couldn't with me.

My father took an interest in cousin Brutus very young—but then everyone loved cousin Brutus, as he was the only boy in our family that had two brain cells to rub together, and following the death of poor old Uncle Caepio, he had been adopted as his son. Brutus was everyone's heir—the Junii and Servilii—and together with the fact that he was adored by his mother.

Servilia is capable of unbelieveable acts of cruelty, behind her strictly patrician exterior beats the heart of a manic turtle who can do just about anything—including locking little girls in closets and forgetting them. The clothes closet isn't that bad, but when it's the cellar or the kitchen cupboard... it scared me. No, Servilia loves two people, Brutus and Caesar. She loves Gaius Julius Caesar without any shame. Once my father mistook one of their love letters for a petition right in the middle of a senate meeting. Yes, my aunt loves Caesar without shame and my father hates her for it. No, don't let love rule you; that is my lesson from father… Aunt Servilia and my father naturally don't get along, but some of that is linked to their childhood. Both of them children of "noble" Livia Drusa, each by different fathers who didn't get on with each other, so naturally there were tensions.

Cornelia and I spoke during last night as we heard the weeping sounds of dying men in the distance. She said how happy she was that the children were asleep and unable to hear those terrible screams coming from the men her stepson was torturing. In truth, we had to give them a little wine so they would sleep heavily—it was my idea, as I told how the screams invaded my dreams the night before when the torture hour began. I was always a light sleeper.

Quintus Valerius Pompey is the illegitimate son of Gnaeus Pompey Magnus, he has another son, Sextus Pompey, who was just as brutish and violent, being a hero of Rome he felt he had the right to moan about it all the time! Quintus was no better, lacking all the respectability, nobility (in character not family) and general stamina of his father. I find him a very detestable little man—and little he is, he is no taller then I—and I am very _brevis_ and very _tenuis_.

Cornelia said that I was very beautiful but I was never aware of such things—they say I have the beauty of my grandmother Livia Drusa, but even my father doesn't remember her face as he was just three when she died. Yet, I fully aware of my lean figure; living on father's diet, it's only natural that I have little fat on me. It has taught me to eat like a bird. Cornelia assures me that I am still young and that I will put weight on once I had children. I assured her that I didn't care about my looks. I like to think I am a true stoic woman and the stoic beliefs, held so I did not worry about trivial things. Women were to overlook their slaves prepare meals; feed and take care of their children and clothe them in tunics and dresses you have made for them—and your husband's clothes too.

"Never mind your Catonian drivel… tell me what Porcia thinks!" Cornelia said with her kind laugh.

I smiled, "I, Porcia Catonis, think too much… that is my curse." I looked out into the weak evening and felt the bitter cold wind blow into our faces. Cornelia noticed this and closed the curtains. "I think that my duty is to my husband and my father but it is hard to live the life of the perfect stoic wife. Bibulus isn't the sort of man I wish to be married to. I married him when I was twelve and was given to him finally at thirteen. Sometimes I even think I hate him; he is old enough to be my grandfather. I married him because it's what father wanted. He always wanted to choose a man I would hate, so I wouldn't fall in love with my husband, so I would never love anyone more then him."

_"Quam insolitus,"_ Cornelia exclaimed, "Why is that then?"

"Father sees love as the ultimate weakness," I explained, "He believes that the only love that is acceptable is the loyalty between father and daughter, or father and son. Even I, a weak and feeble woman, cannot afford to love in his eyes. He thinks that if a woman loves her husband she drags him down and if he loves her it drags him down further."

"I love my husband" Cornelia said, dreamily, "And I think he cares for me also."

"And father would remind you of where we are…" I said with an 'as-a-matter-of-face' smile, "I know my father is extremely tiresome, but I do care for him. He's all I have—but I wish he didn't underestimate me. I wonder why Aunt Servilia hates him so, they're so similar."

"You don't like your Aunt Servilia do you?" Cornelia said, remembering probably one of the many stories of my family and Servilia.

"I dislike her," I admitted, "But she curses me—ever since I was a child she's put me down, she teases me about my family, calls me less then patrician—which I don't mind. I've never been ashamed of my background, and her lifestyle along side Caesar is hardly noble. Once, I was 'attempting' to weave and I messed up all my work. Aunt Servilia glared at me and said, 'I'll see you eat live coals one day!' She always says that when she's angry at me."

I sighed deeply and mused for a second. Looking at Cornelia, I saw a woman who wasn't forced into the stoic lifestyle, a woman who was free; I found myself asking, "Are you content with being a woman?" Cornelia looked at me puzzled. I went on: "I wish I could speak my mind and that people would listen to me. You're a very well-read and intelligent woman too, Cornelia. Don't you wish you had more freedom?"

I had the intelligence and orator talents, useless to a girl but useful to a boy, and though I was very fond of my being female I wished that I had the freedom of a man. I was weak and feeble like any woman is but I thought my mind was strong enough to lead an army if I wanted to—battle tactics were easily understood and I'm sure that with training I could come up with them, even if I couldn't fight them. Cicero later said when the men came back to see their families and Cornelia casually mentioned what we had been talking about:

"Dear Porcia has a wasted mind. I sometimes envy the peacefulness of her character and personality when the situation is still and her swiftness, her bravery and her wits when the situation is harsh. Yes, Porcia is the true daughter of Cato—though say this not to him—you have the body of a woman but mind of a man. It is such a pity she is wasted on the likes of Bibulus, isn't friends?"

Cassius came in, catching the end of that speech, "Oh she's not that clever—in my experience, Porcia's mind works on passion not logic, something that Cato does not do."

I gave him a glare, "It's more logic then you, Cassius!"

Cicero replied, "I can't think of a time where Porcia has ever acted on 'passions', it is always logic."

"When she was a child," my father said as he hobbled into our presence, "I recall several occasions when she acted in a fit of passion—when her brother called her stupid she pushed him down to the floor and called him stupid for even daring to call her 'stupid', and the time she pulled Junia's hair because she made fun of her weaving skills—that blasted sister of mine always used to say—" he paused and thought, "What was it again—I'll make you swallow live coals_?"_

_"_I'll see you swallow live coals_"_ I corrected him, and as he left he made a catty comment about my face and hair, calling me a frump. He glared slightly as he left and shook my head; catching sight of Brutus as he came in…It reminded me that I hadn't seen Claudia that day. "Do you remember what your mother used to say to me?" I asked him.

Brutus spoke quite casually, "My mother has said and still says a lot of things to you, none of them particularly kind."

"I'll see you swallow live coals…" I repeated, Cornelia began to brush my hair for me since my father disapproved so much, "I wonder what she meant by that."

"It must be painful," Cornelia commented, "To swallow a burning coal…surely you'd throw it out before it reached the gutter and besides, no man in their right mind would swallow a live coal."

I laughed hysterically, "Who says it needs to be a man? I am a woman and Aunt Servilia appears to think I could do it. And I'm not in the right state of mind…"

"A woman couldn't stand the pain" Cassius commented,

"We women can endure a lot of pain, Cassius" I informed him, "Scars that kill us faster then any of your battle wounds could ever do. Maybe my father is right, I am a woman who acts on passion… death by a burning coal would have to be a suicide of passion, don't you agree?"

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	3. 1: Virgo

**To all readers: If you are reading this and see a (!) at the top of the page, it means I have edited it.**

This story is written through the eyes of one of the character omitted from Rome HBO, Porcia, who was the daughter of Cato. Porcia is stuck with not only with the trail of looking after her useless husband's children (who are her own age) and her drunken brother (whom she calls little despite that fact he is older) but with life both unsatisfying and boring. Although a stoic herself, Porcia is a woman and therefore weak--according to her father--therefore she is ready to bend the rules the stoic laws state. With Cato as the only role model you have, wouldn't you go looking for other friends?

**I don't own HBO: Rome, HBO/BBC do. The characters, although dramatised by HBO: Rome and/or myself, are based on actual persons and cannot be owned; they are people, but their names are out of copyright. They've been dead for more then 100 years, some 2000 in fact. Excuse me, enjoy!**

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Quintus Pompey came back today from his failed adventure. Now Caesar has the gold and we truly are refugees in our own country. Cicero's greatest fears have come true and no doubt Pompey's too. Quintus returned with an offer of truce from Caesar… and something tells me that this will not be gladly accepted by my father. I was playing with Cornelia's children when Brutus and Scipio came in, followed by the short figure of Quintus, howling insults I dare not write down, followed swiftly by Cicero, followed by the barking voice of my father. I quickly jumped up, pulling my dress down about me (I had been sitting cross legged, very unladylike and my father wouldn't approve.) I grabbed the hands of little Gnaeus and Pompeia and led them away.

I smacked straight into Brutus; even after living rough for weeks he still had the scent of book buckets and paper and ink. How odd!

I took the children back to Cornelia and spent the rest of the day with her.

Cornelia is from the Scipio family, one of the most admired and respected. Metellus Scipio, a great Roman general in his own right who travels with us today, though not of the great Scipio blood, his family was adopted into the family many, many years ago. They are the highest ranking plebeians in the city and the patrician side of the Scipio family admire and respect them. Scipio, as he does not have a son of his own, adopted one of the patrician Scipios, Publius Cornelius Scipio, who everyone calls "Salvito", whom he took as a boy when his very rich father died and left his wealth to both Metellus Scipio and Salvito.

A similar problem runs in my family too. My father wouldn't have any other name other then Marcus Porcius Cato. Some called my father "the younger", his father and his grandfather were "Salonianus" and his great-grandfather was "Censor" or "Wise"... the great Cato the Elder. Truth is there are too many Marcus and Lucius in Rome--but they are the only names that everyone seems to have purely because they are threaded down the lines because law demands that a son and daughter must have their father's name. I am Porcia Catonis, and the second of the Salonii as my aunt was Porcia and the third of the Salonii and the Lincii. I was referred to as "Little Porcia" or "Porcilla" by Auntie Porcia Salonia, (it was strange, Aunt Servilia, always called me "Hey you!") while she was just "Auntie Porcia" to us children--with the children I was just plain Porcia.

Odd thing is, Cornelia is really called Caecilia, but we still call her Cornelia. After I finished my last entry here, I was stuck staring into space, thinking about how many people there were in our family. So many people, so many children. She watched me with her all-seeing eyes and noticed my gloominess as I finally snapped out of it and Pompeia sat in front of me, asking me to plat her hair. "Is there something wrong, Porcia?"

I looked up, "Hmm?" I smiled and waved my hand dismissively, "It's nothing, and I was just thinking how wonderful it would be to have children."

"There's plenty of time," Cornelia said assuring, "Once the civil war is over, maybe you and Bibulus could start having your own children.

"We've been married for nearly nine years and I've yet to fall pregnant. Truth is that he has many children: three sons and a daughter, he doesn't need me for any more. Never once have I fallen pregnant. On our wedding night he slept in a chair and ordered me to go to sleep--I was so terrified, being only twelve at the time," I explained.

Cornelia smiled, "You were twelve?"

"Yes, but I'm not any more, am I?" I replied, "I'm nearly twenty!"

"Do you think you're... unable to have children?" Cornelia asked quietly, trying to sound as discreet as possible.

"How am I supposed to know...? He hasn't even tried yet!" I replied before I could think; straight away I felt so ashamed. I covered my mouth and felt my cheeks burn. Cornelia stared back at me. "Excuse me that just came out... I'm sorry!"

"You mean you are still a--" Cornelia began, her modesty kicked him hard, she could say the words.

"Yes," my muffled voice managed from behind my face, "You see--Bibulus doesn't need any more children. His sons are all grown-up and his daughter will soon be able to marry. He doesn't need me for anything marital, not that I mind... he's so old, and short, and fat, and--if anything I'm grateful he has never touched me!"

It was true, I was repulsed by him--well, as you already know wasn't neutral. He loved me despite the fact he never laid a finger on me. He liked to stare at me and show me off--apparently old men liked to do that. I suppose to him I was a worthy prize. As the daughter Cato I was the only woman married to one of Caesar's enemies who Caesar couldn't land. My purity is one of my best features it seems. I should have been a Vestal.

"Mama, what's _virgo_?" Cornelia's daughter asked, breaking the awkward silence. Her question didn't help her mother, "Is it like a vestal?"

I laughed, "Sometimes, but other times it can just mean a girl who is still a maid or a boy who has not yet become a man. You are still a maid, same for your brother." I made Cornelia promise not to tell anyone--the humiliation of not yet having children bad enough without them knowing I was still a virgin. Whenever I went out in public I would catch the burning eyes of women like Atia, staring down at my tummy, wondering why there was nothing in there yet.

They always laughed about it behind my back--me and my scrawny figure. In secret, I look at myself in the mirror and try and pick out what was wrong with me. My face is heart-shaped, my hair a sandy reddish-brown, my eyes dark grey, but they looked anything from amber, to hazel, to green. My waist is long and thin, my hips are wide but because I'm slender they feel bony. I'm just not fat enough. The only thing I like about my body is my legs; though I am quite small, at least my legs are firm and soft, but the reason I like them is because they make me feel taller.

Later that night, Bibulus came to visit me to ask how I was holding up in these conditions. After talking with Cornelia earlier, I found myself shying away from him as I used to when I first married him. When he came in, I made him some food to eat and brought him some wine to drink, and he ate and drank so greedily without saying a word to me. I wondered what he'd do next.

"I have news, wife," he grunted, "I am travelling to Syria; I have been given the governorship there. Our armies are gathering there and we need a second front for battle when Caesar marches."

"You think he will march?" I asked him. "Can he?"

I then heard from him that Quintus Pompey had been sent by his father to find the treasury gold, (which Bibulus insists they didn't steal), and returned this evening beaten up and damaged by Caesar's soldiers. One he said was called Lucius Vorenus and the other Titus Pullo. Apparently Pullo had found the gold, hidden it and told the all mighty dictator, and now Caesar had it—he could pay and feed his troops while Pompey couldn't. Oddly enough, Caesar had sent an offer of truce to Pompey but in his vanity he has refused. Apparently Cicero, Scipio and Brutus were ready to give up and go home—but father, Pompey and Bibulus weren't.

"Why not?" I asked.

"It is the ultimate dishonour," he replied bitterly.

"No it's not, its neutral disarmament," I replied with the same bitterness, "You wouldn't be losing any more then he is." When I saw the look on Bibulus' face, I decided to be silent on the matter. I went back to his governorship in Syria. "So when are you leaving for this trip?"

He turned and stood proudly, "Very soon, maybe in a few days—we must leave instantly; I wish to take the children with me."

I looked at him, "We? I don't want to go—I'll be of no use there!"

"You're my wife, it would look strange if you didn't come," he insisted.

"I don't care," I retorted, I folded my arms and stared, "Besides, were we at home I could have stayed in Rome, just because we're in the middle of southern Italy doesn't make a difference to me. I want to stay here with my father and family. You can leave your daughter here; take the boys, if you wish." Bibulus was in no place to object to my demands and I wasn't prepared to leave, even this hard going life of living like wanderers, to go to a place far away from my father. I had a duty to my father. Bibulus left very quickly, taking Gnaeus and Marcus with him, while I remained with Lucius and Calpurnilla with my father in Italy.

After he was gone, we travelled to the coats of Italy and looked out at the sea. As normal we women had to watch from a far because we weren't allowed into the camps without our husbands, but we were allowed to see our friends and family at any time. It was just Lucius, Calpurnilla and me, so we'd both sit out with Cornelia and her children, watching the sea roll in towards us like a great unrolling carpet. I watched as a slave rushed up towards Pompey who was sitting at the other end of beach. I sensed something was wrong, so I went inside.

I later on when it began to turn dark I went out. Walking down the pebble and sand, I happened upon Cicero who was sitting on the beach staring out at the ocean. I cleared my throat. He looked up and smiled, "Greetings, daughter of Cato" he said as I approached him. "What brings you out at late hour night?"

"Boredom, I'm feeling a little home sick," I replied, "We are on to coast, so am I to assume that we are fleeing the country? I heard that Pompey wouldn't meet with Caesar, and this was used as Caesar's excuse to declare war on him. A bad mistake if you ask me. Even I would have met with Caesar if it was in the terms. After all, it is custom."

"Yes, yes…I said that! I told them that we should look on the offer seriously but your father convinced Pompey not to," Cicero replied in his rhythmic voice, "Young girls like yourself even understand the hardships of this war. I wish that I could escape, go away from here a retire."

"Then why don't you?" I asked.

"They might think me as a coward if I leave now and I couldn't stand that! Too be honest, virginal lands around these parts are not my ideal of haven. I should like to sleep in a bed, my bed with Terenita by my side. I'd like to sit out and watch Rome go by, take my normal walks with my Tulliola—I hope she is well in Rome—she didn't leave, she couldn't face travelling following her divorce from her beloved husband, broke her heart. I received a letter from her this morning. In my last letter to her mother, I said I didn't know what I was doing here and Tulliola asked _what was I doing here?_ I better reply tonight, before we leave," Cicero sighed. "I cannot answer their question..."

I knew how much Cicero loved his daughter, and despite her bad temper, he felt deep affection for his wife Terenita also. He called her his pillar, the one person he could lean upon and not topple over. She could be harsh but I know she was fond of Cicero despite his pompousness.

When Cicero stopped talking we heard a third person coming towards us. I turned to see who it was. In the hidden moon and the darkness around us, with only camp fires to light the bay, I couldn't see clearly but I still knew who it was; it was cousin Brutus, obviously sick of being inside too. Cicero began speaking again. "Ah, Brutus comes to join us outcasts of the sleepless night?"

"If you mean I couldn't sleep, yes," he replied, sitting beside Cicero, "He intends for us to sail to Greece in a few days. Now Caesar has reason to chase us, Pompey needs to flee to Greece where his money is."

"Funny isn't it?" I said suddenly.

"What is?" Brutus asked.

"That Caesar is the one doing wrong and yet we're the ones made to look like criminals," I stated. I tucked my arms around my knees and pulled them against my chest while staring out at the black lines of waves washing towards us. "I found myself thinking a good deal about the Roman kingdom, that mad old king Targuinius and how he was driven from Rome. Caesar could be viewed as a mad dictator, but yet it is the republicans who have been driven from the city—including the direct descendant of the man who drove out Targuinius from the city. It's a strange thing to be ravished by irony; I feel pity for Pompey; this war is a lost cause."

Cicero smiled, "How well you put it, Porcia." He pulled himself to his feet leaving a gap between Brutus and I. "I now intend to finally bid farewell to this day, for a couple of hours at least. Since Quintus is otherwise immobile for tonight, we might all get a goodnight sleep. Will any of you follow?"

"When I'm good and ready," I said plainly with a smile, "Sitting out here watching the night pass serves me much better then sitting with the other women moaning and groaning, not to mention Cornelia's mother Lepida's snoring—to think she could have been my mother!"

"I feel for you, truly," Cicero said vainly, he turned to look at Brutus, "What about you?"

"Not just yet, Cicero," Brutus said, his mind far away.

Cicero nodded, "Then I bid you both goodnight; the younger generation might be able to live without sleep but old men like myself need a little bit of peace of mind. Older men, well, we need to sleep… I envy you both. You can stay awake forever, and then when you do sleep, you stay asleep. Even the slightest noise interrupts my dreams; my sleep is never as restful as that of younger gentlemen such as Brutus and youthful beauties such as Porcia, goodnight."

Finally, he turned tail and walked down the shore towards the camp. I let out a great sigh of relief, "I thought he'd never leave—no wonder he never finds a moment's rest; he probably gives an elegy to the dying sun and his dying candles before he goes to sleep."

Brutus laughed, "He does over dramatise everything but he means well—he loves Rome but he also loves the simple life of living in Rome and working in the senate, as well as his speeches and works."

"He thinks too much!" I said with a laugh. "More then I do and my brain never stops working. My dreams are constant when I sleep; I see reproduced thoughts of the day. It's very tiring sometimes."

"I feel for you" Brutus said, still in a daze.

"Everyone feels for me today," I said with another laugh, "Everyone has been feeling for me these past few days. Just because Bibulus is gone, but nothing has changed, except I've lost one father and now I just have my real father. If anything I'm glad Bibulus has gone—now I might be treated as something other then a nice piece of furniture."

Brutus raised an eyebrow, "Bibulus treats you like a piece of furniture?"

"Not really" I said thinking about it more, "More like a priceless ornament, the sort that everyone comes in, points at and says, 'I didn't know you had one' but neither they nor the owner would dare touch it from fear it being decreased in value."

"I'm sorry—"

"Don't be." I said quickly, "I'm sick of people feeling sorry, and I certainly don't want you to be sorry for me."

He smiled, "Then I won't feel sorry—I'll just sit here and pretend that life is perfect."

I laughed, "That would be good—a fine fiction."

Not long before I married Bibulus, I would play with my brother and Prima, Secunda and Tertia. Sometimes, however I would sit down and just watch as they chased each other up and down the garden, playing no particular game. Most of the time I'd be annoying Brutus by peeking at what he was reading. He was normally quite tolerant towards me and tried to ignore me, biting his lips and leaning away from me—

But it never kept me from trying to see what he was reading.

Sometimes he'd give up and go inside, leaving me to sulk because I hadn't finished reading the sentence. One day however, when he got up for a second leaving the book behind, I grabbed it and began to read it. When he came back he stood in front of me staring at me for a while. I purposely ignored him even though his shadow was blocking my light.

"Why do you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" I replied innocently.

"Annoy me, and don't lie—you are doing it on purpose!"

I rolled up the scroll and stared at him, "I'm a very curious person, Brutus; I want to learn everything I can about the world and you read an awful lot that I can profit from."

He sighed and sat back down taking the book from my hands. I folded my arms and gave him what I thought was an icy look. I failed miserably, he started smiling. "Is that your scary face?"

"Obviously not," I snapped, leaping onto my feet and turning to face him from the front, "And don't smile—it's not funny!"

"Oh, don't be so sensitive!" he said, tucking the book under his arm, "You take things too personally—if you really want to read this book then just say so, I could led it to you when I'm finished. I have plenty things you could read now, there nothing wrong with asking. I wouldn't say no to you."

"Thank you…" I smiled shyly, linked my fingers and twiddled my thumbs and bounced on my feet trying to think of something to say. I pointed to the book and said, "You're always reading, or doing something—why?"

He shrugged; "Same reason as you, because I too want to further my knowledge, but really…" he stopped and shook his head, not finishing his sentence.

"What?" I asked, curiously.

He looked up at me and I quickly sat down again next to him. He sighed deeply and said in a rather far off voice, "Sometimes I just wish I could escape from this boring life here in Rome. I'm tied of being everyone's 'hope' in the family. Uncle Cato is taking me with him to Cyprus and Uncle Caepio made me his heir before he died… what's wrong with your brother--?"

"A lot of things…"

"—And why didn't Uncle Caepio have a son? Why must I always be the one the all rely on to carry on the bloodline?" he put down the book and threw his head back to look up at the sky, "Sometimes I just wish that I could get away from all of it, everything around me. Mother wants me to go into the senate but I just don't want to do it, politics doesn't interest me, but whenever I tell her, she says 'Where would we be now if Lucius Junius Brutus said that five hundred years ago? Would have Lucretia died for nothing?' it's very annoying…" he heaved a great sigh, and looked down at his feet, "I just wish I could pack up my library, my belongings, get on a ship and sail away to an island—away from politics and Rome and mother and my uncles, everyone that pressures me…"

We sat in silence for quite some time until finally I spoke: "Brutus?"

"Yes?"

"Could I go with you?"

"Sure, if you wanted," he said shortly, "You might get bored."

I shook my head, "No, I wouldn't."

And we sat and just stared, watching his sisters playing. I think sitting and watching the sea reminded me of that day in the garden. Would I get bored? I wondered. No, I don't think I would get bored. He owned a lot of books and even if I managed to read them all, I know that I'd be able to argue about what they mean with him for the rest of my days.

"I better get back," I said pulling myself to my feet, "Before father wonders where I've got to—I wouldn't want him to think I got too close to the men in camp."

Brutus laughed, for the first time in weeks, "Just say you were with me—surely they trust me." I brushed down my dress and yawned, trying to hide it behind my hand (as dear Marcia has tried to teach me), even though the company I had wasn't too judgmental of me. "Goodnight!" I called back to him as I rushed back towards the woods.

I managed to sneak in without waking any of the others in my quarter and slipped into bed as silently as I could. I thought endlessly of reading, wishing and wish that I had at least brought one book. I feel as if I'm going insane… So I might just scan back through this scroll and read over what I have already written—

Or breaking into Cicero's tent and steal what he has book-wise… no, I'll try and ask him nicely.

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	4. 1: Femina bellus

**And you all know that I don't own this Rome HBO/BBC... HBO and BBC do. God bless them, Juno keep you and _Jupiter_ _Optiumus Maximus_!**

**Lets go on... I'm sorry this chapter is long... but it would have been shorter if I had not added the poem. Basically, it's either long chapters long updates or short chapters short updates and I don't have time to make a strech.**

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I wrote a poem last night based on that talk I had a few weeks back with father, Cornelia, Brutus and various other who had input. It's a poem about death. I envision a woman saying it all in her dying letter to someone she loves, like a son, daughter, husband or brother--because can't we women endure pain? I certainly think I could, and I know others like Cornelia could, so I dedicate this poem to her, my dear friend Cornelia:

_The end is drawing on us now and,  
We did the best we could to save the,  
Face of everything we thought was good,  
And right and surely history will remember,  
You and I and the men who died,  
Trying to save the world. _

Our cause we knew was just,  
Our purpose was for a cause true,  
And if it is a crime to do good,  
To wish to die before it becomes as crime,  
Then I shall die and die with great pain.

So was the mother was there,  
To see the birth of our republic,  
I will die before I see its death,  
So kill me now, oh burning flame,  
Take away my speech, my breath,  
Let me die and endure the pain.

When I showed it to Cornelia she was flattered that is was dedicated to her but wished that I had written something a little more cheerful. I told her that it was impossible to write something cheerful in times like these. Everyone assumes that I'm sad that Bibulus is gone, but I can assure all that that is not the case. _Bona Dea!_ I'm almost glad to be away from him! This that a crime? I don't love him--I can't love him, I never will love him--I'll always love the same person and never him. But I always remember that a stoic can't love, I have to remember that... so maybe I should burn this page.

I'll have to think about it.

No, I won't burn the page... a true writer of the truth never needs to burn a page. The original is always the truth and I refuse to lie. I am not one for lying... I become very guilty when I lie... so I just don't do it. Marcus can lie, he's always been a good liar. Yes... I'll keep this page in, it might comfort me one day to read how foolish or clever I was, depending on how the older me will be when she reads these pages. I suppose the thing I fear the most is that Bibulus or my stoic father Cato will read these words and discover my feelings of love are not for my husband. Well, I don't care, I've done nothing wrong, for once.

We travelled to Greece as soon as the sea was calm. For days everyone sat around doing nothing, many nobles fled the camp and rushed off back to Rome to make peace with Caesar. Little by little, the amount of women in our part of the camp grew few. There was just Cornelia, Claudia, Libo's son Lucius and daughter Scribonia, and Lucius' daughter Scribonilla, my stepdaughter Calpurnilla and various others--Claudia left not long after that! Her father, Appius Claudius send word from Rome to Brutus, he would keep Claudia safe in Rome until the war was over—Caesar wouldn't do anything to hurt her. So Claudia left, and I was sorry to see her go. She gave me her old, friendly hug and smiled her not-so-charming smile, "Thank you for your friendship, Porcia... I'm so grateful to you."

I sighed and kissed her cheeks, I could hear the sound of my father grunting as he walked back into the tent, "Goodbye, Claudia, hopefully we'll see you again." Truth was I didn't know if we would see her again—wars were tricky things—Claudia might be a _viduata_ by the end of the year. After she had gone, the ships started to turn up to take away the army to under the command of Metellus Scipio and Salvito. They and the soldiers left first a few days before the generals and the few remaining nobles were stuck on the beach throwing rocks in. Cornelia walked up and down with Pompey, while little Pompeia and Gnaeus rushed up and down just for the sheer joy of it. Cicero sat at a table, reading his books and father stayed inside grumbling about the heat and wondering why Caesar hadn't come yet—

Brutus and I normally walked behind Pompey and Cornelia, just in silence, trying to pass the minutes. There was always a strange gap between us, sometimes it was nearly three yards long; it would normally close up when one of us started talking. Pompey seemed to sped a lot of his time throwing rocks into the sea and staring out at it, telling us that he was waiting for the right time to leave…but my father mumbled that he was waiting for Caesar to come. Finally, Pompey had us all awake in the middle of the night and ordered that we gather what we needed and get ready—we sent sail to Greece in the morning. As it turned out, we had been waiting for Scipio to return the fleet so us, and so boarded the remaining fifty people on the beach—including myself and the children.

"I hate ships!" my father complained as I served him, my brother, Brutus and Cicero something which I, quite badly, cooked myself, "I always feel sick a sea, the sooner we get to Greece, the better—" he tasted my porridge and put it down again, "What on earth is this, girl?"

"Porridge," I snapped slightly, angered by his ungratefulness, "It's what soldiers eat."

"It looks horrible…" Marcus said, pulling a childish face—he was drunk again—he took his goblet and drank the wine as if it were water, "And what's wrong with this wine?" he turned to me and glared, "You watered it down, didn't you?"

"I had your sister water it down to the thinnest for you, my boy" father said to Marcus, taking a sip of his wine, "I won't have you drunk on this ship… you'll stay sober until we get to Greece. If I can help it you'll stay sober for the rest of this trip!"

Marcus stood violently, making all but father and I jump—we were used to Marcus being violent when he was drunk, why should he be different sober? He threw his bowl of porridge on the floor with a great crash, like lightning, and glared at father, who held his own. "You're a disgrace!" father went on: "A disgrace to this family—a disgrace to me—a _disgrace_! All you care about is your worthless self, never a thought for others. If you don't pull yourself together I—"

Marcus laughed hysterically, "You'll what, father? What will you do? Divorce me, throw me out on the streets like you did with my mother?"

Cicero and Brutus backed away; I lowered my head in embarrassmen. I made a quick and quiet glance over to Brutus. He also gave me a glance, his eyes full of pity.

Father fumed with anger, "How dare you mention _that whore_ to me? Listen to me, Marcus… your mother was a whore and my divorce of her was perfectly legitimate! She made a fool of me with Caesar while you and you sister were still just babies. She made herself into a whore to Caesar," my father looked at Brutus, who lowered his head, knowing that Aunt Servilia was on his mind, "She added her name to the list of patrician whores who happily opened her legs for Caesar—your sister is the only woman in Rome he cannot take!"

Marcus laughed and looked at me, "Just give her time, father; she'll make a whore of herself yet!"

I coloured all over in embarrassment and anger, "What have I ever done to you—I'm your younger sister yet I have babysat you since I was old enough to walk! I made your clothes; I cooked your food and looked after you when you were sick—why are you insulting me, and in front of Cicero as well as Cousin Brutus?"

"And I'm not even _that_ drunk—" he said with a laugh, "No, no… I'm sorry sister, I'm sorry… No, what I mean is it doesn't have to be Caesar, does it? I mean in a few years once the war is over and everything, it might be another dictator… Hell, it might be someone in our family who has money." He turned to father and laughed again, "Come on, _tata_! It's tradition in our family for women to be whores, isn't it? Grandma was, her mother was, Aunt Servilia is—" I looked to Brutus who shifted in his seat again, "Aunt Servililla is, pretty much every woman in our family—why should tradition break for Porcia?" he said, putting his hands on my chair, "Don't you go saying it's above you—"

I straightened myself in my chair and looked up at him, "It is, actually."

"Come on!" Marcus slurred out walking over to Brutus and standing behind him. Cicero looked worryingly up at my stupid brother, "With people like poor _mamma_, our aunts, and a whole history of sluts and whores in our family, why should _you_ break tradition?"

"That's enough!" father snapped, grabbing Marcus by the scruff of his neck like a master holding a troublesome puppy, "Don't ever speak to your sister like this, _ever_;she's worth ten of you; she's worth _a_ _million_ of you!" He pushed him forwards towards the door, "Get out! Your presence here is no longer welcome."

Marcus fell forwards, crashing into the door. He made the coughs of a dtunk before he turned back and looked to me; "Hand me the wine flask…"

"Don't you dare!" father snapped to me.

"I'm sorry, Marcus…" I said quietly, picking up the flask and clutching it between my fingers, "I will not…you're already drunk."

He stepped forwards, advancing harshly towards me, pulling a maddening face, but he stopped and glanced over to Cicero's gawping face and Brutus' emotionless face staring into space. He turned swiftly and stalked out of the room. I took a deep breath and put the flask down again.

Father turned to Cicero and Brutus, "Forgive him. I'm disgraced by his behaviour here tonight, as I am every night and day," he then left in humiliation. Before he went he said, "If only Porcia had been born the boy and Marcus born the girl—it's a tragedy I have to live."

Cicero also took his leave saying, "Yes… I often think such things of my daughter and son, but I wouldn't have my dear Tulliola any other way, girl or boy. I love her still. The same for my son; a woman's role wouldn't suit a soldier."

Brutus helped me clear up the mess that Marcus had made and we spoke of what happened. I always felt I could talk to him of all people, "I'm ashamed of my brother but I love him nonetheless. If he was a happy drunk I wouldn't mind so much, but he's so violent sometimes I'm scared to cross him."

"Happy drunk," Brutus asked, "What's that?"

"When you're cheerful after you have a lot of wine" I explained, I smiled—a little too _blanditia_, so much that I don't know where it came from—and said, "Rather like you when you're tanked up."

He smiled, "I'm a happy drunk? But I don't drink that much at all."

"No," I replied, "But when you do you're a lot of fun, even if you talk a bit too much and make an idiot of yourself… at least you're not violent like Marcus…"

"Someone has to do something about him," Brutus commented, placing the piece of the broken bowl back on the table, "He can't stay like that forever."

"We've tried taking his drink away but he gets hold of some or strikes out on us," I replied, my heart ached to see my brother and father at least other throats, it made me feel sick with fear of what might happen. "Sometimes I just wish… sometimes I wish I could just run away from both of them, I'd go to the sea… like this, find and island and just read for the rest of my life, and when I die my ashes will just wash away like sand…" I glanced at him, picked up the pieces of Marcus bowl and said as casually as possible, "You used to say something like that."

"Yes" Brutus said, sitting down, his mind elsewhere, "And you used to always ask if you could come too."

I sat in front of him and stared, "What are you doing here, cousin?"

"I believe your father would call it 'doing what's right for the republic'" he replied sleepily.

"You said you wished you could escape to that island with your library to get away from politics and now you're fighting a war fuelled by politics—why?" I asked, very curious to what he'd say.

However, in the end he said very little, "Because my mother says it's for the good of Rome."

At that, I just sighed and sat back in my chair—falling into wonder.

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_**Now, I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I find the time.**_


	5. 1: Duodecim annus memoria

**I don't own this Rome HBO/BBC... HBO and BBC do. God bless them, Juno keep you and _Jupiter_ _Optiumus Maximus_!**

**And here I am, yet again, updating out of my sheer boredom... I was sick so I've been typing a lot--I'm warning you--it's a lot!**

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Since arriving in Greece, we've been set up in a household all together with the women on our family. Marcia, Calpurnilla, and a few others are with me, and Cornelia and the children of course. Scribonia and Scribonilla aren't far away, though I imagine that Scribonilla will be leaving very soon with her husband, Pompey only adult legitimate son, Sextus. She hadn't been at all well recently, and I hope she survives the journey. Scribonia and her baby have settled in better then we originally thought they would, the baby was very agitated on the journey here. Little Marcellinus will be coming up for one soon—I set about making him a charm for his bulla.

Everyone seems to have been falling sick up here at the house and Cornelia and I have taken up our roles of nurses again. It seems that Gnaeus Marcellinus, who was Scribonia's husband, Scribonilla who is her sister, and my Calpurnilla have all fallen sick with this terrible illness—I hope Lucius and I don't come down with it. Calpurnilla's fever has gone up and I've been trying by best to keep it down for her. She should be getting married soon, Bibulus says that once he gets back into Rome he'll certainly be considering her marriage; he may even chose one of the Pompeian faction; Scribonia's stepson is twenty-six (older then she is, rather like my stepsons) Lentulus Marcellinus could be a good choice. According to Scribonia, the match has been talked over with Bibulus and Marcellinus.

Calpurnilla eighteen, the same age as Scribonia, and I believe has been very lucky to have such a long and happy childhood—which I boast is because I turned up just before she reached puberty to give her a good education. I was still a girl when I married Bibulus; I was so terrified I remember—I was married at twelve-years-old—well, I was four days off my thirteenth birthday, but my father wanted me married as soon as he could legally do so. I admit, though I am still naïve to the nature of marriage even though I have been married to my husband for eight years, I was even more naïve as any girl would be at the age of twelve. My father had high hopes for my marriage prospects—I was a prize of have if you were a stonewall Catonian who believed in my father's politics, his republic. Many men held up their hands when father made it common knowledge that he was looking for a husband for me.

Of course, if they were refused me, they were always free to have one of my cousins—but since their mother was a known mistress of Caesar, not many enjoyed the thought of marrying Prima or Secunda—little Tertulla was and still is too young to be thought about for marriage. Besides, I have no doubt that Cassius will worm his was into Brutus' good books by marrying Tertia when the time comes.

Marcus Calpurnius Bibulus was the man who my father chose in the end—a man who was thirty-five or so years older then myself. I was still just a girl and the whole idea and prospect of marriage scared me, let alone marrying a man eleven years older then my own father, almost old enough to have been his father! As I drew closer to my thirteenth birthday, father just called me to see him and told me his plans.

"I just want you to know, that though Bibulus is a close friend of mine—he wasn't my first choice of marriage for you," he explained once he told me that my marriage would occur within a few weeks. "I would have preferred someone closer to you in age—I had a certain someone in mind in fact, but he refused saying that marriage wasn't in his mind at the moment. He was more interested in expanding his knowledge, he said, as well as his fortune. Ha! He'll live to regret it…"

"Who was it father?" I asked.

"That doesn't matter," he replied, drinking his lemon water, "The point is that though my first choice for a husband for you refused my offer—fool that he is—I have managed to come to a clear decision on which would benefit us the most, and I have chosen Bibulus."

I sighed, shuffling my feet against the floor, "As you say, father… but I'd rather have waited a little longer before marrying. I feel so unprepared for it."

Father raised his hand wisely and without a smile said, "I will have Marcia and your Auntie to talk to you about what can be expected from a marriage. I also wish that I could have waited a little longer but these are hard times, daughter, and I need to you to marry now. Besides, as you know I am going away to govern Cyprus this year, I'm taking Brutus with me, and I want to see you settled in a husband's home before we're gone."

"Please," I begged him, trying my hardest not to sound like I was begging, "Try to understand—I've only ever been around Aunt Servilia, and her daughters when it came to women, and I've only ever been in the same house as you and father—the only boy I've ever been in close contact with is Brutus. I've never been out of either yours or his sight."

He waved his hand unsympathetically and said, "We have to cut the strings at some point, Porcia. It's about time you learnt how to be a wife and the best way to do so is though experience and advice."

I was sent from my father to my Aunt Servilia, who sat all-important at her weaving, pretending to ignore me. I just stood there for a long while. My feet began to itch when she finally clicked her fingers and made me come towards her. As I did, I couldn't bring myself to understand why my father wanted me to get advice from her of all people. He found her affair with Caesar to be an insult to our family—surely Aunt Porcia and Marcia would have been more suitable—the last thing he wanted was for to end up like, "that whore" as father called her, my mother, or his and Aunt Servilia's own mother, Livia Drusa, whom everyone said I resembled.

"Father sent me to you to talk to me about---"

"I know why you're here," she said simply. She span her chair around and pulled me to face her. She looked me up and down, shaking her head, "So skinny! And you're short—at least there's still time to grow," she then tugged at my hair and raised an eye-brow, "Don't you ever get these rat tails cut?"

I took my free strands of hair and stroked them protectively, "It's just not been washed and brushed today—it isn't that bad."

"It should be cut!" she said leaning back and looking at it with a tilted head. She sighed and leant forwards staring at me for a short pause before poking me in the right breast. I cried out a small 'ouch' and she sighed, "At least you're developing properly. Do you bleed yet?"

I had no idea what she was talking about! No one had ever explained to me about the calendar all women go by, "What's that?"

"You mean no one has ever explained to you what 'bleeding' is?" she asked in a manner of shock, "What is that fool Marcia thinking? Doesn't she explain anything to you?" I shrugged. "I'll have Prima and Secunda explain it to you—I can't be bothered with that side of things—when you marry, it will only be because you have begun to bleed, until you do you will have to remain with Marcia in your father's household, though you'll probably end up in mine," she grumbled, "Once you bleed you will be able to have children, therefore your first purpose to your husband will be so—to have children. Are you still listening?"

I nodded, trying to take I all she was saying—which was hard because she spoke so quietly and quickly.

"I assume you know how children are made," she asked, her eyebrow raised again.

"Of course I do, I'm not that naïve and clueless!" I snapped. I found out the hard way with that pointer—but I'm not going to tell the story.

"Good, just checking. Your other job will be to raise the children he's already got—" at that she started laughing, "Which should be very amusing, since the youngest one is seven and the eldest one is fourteen! I can just imagine it now!" after she got over that humour she sighed and went on, "Other duties you will need to carry out, according to your father, is over-seeing the education of his daughter, therefore you will have to show her how to weave—which should be amusing also since you couldn't weave to save your life. It's so awful even Minerva wouldn't bother to scold you. Then again, at least she is already ten and probably knows how to weave already, so she might end up teaching you!" and she began laughing again.

I scowled, "I'm glad you find it so funny!"

She stopped and glared at me, "Don't you dare speak back to me—go away now and leave me to my work; I'll send Prima and Secunda to talk to you later."

So, I left her to her work. I sat out in the garden and read—I can't remember what it was now—when suddenly Prima and Secunda sat either side of me and smiled, showing their mocking smiles. They were spoilt, and Tertia too, but they were the most spoilt because, before their father divorced their mother for adultery, he spoilt them because he knew they were his daughters. Everyone secretly knew that Tertia was Caesar's daughter.

"What are you reading?" Prima asked.

"What do you care?" I replied, rolling the scroll back up and putting it away, "You wouldn't be interested anyway—it doesn't have any pictures."

She faked insult, "Are you calling me stupid?"

"No" I replied, "Anyway, what do you want?"

Secunda smiled, "She asked us to tell you about womanhood," she giggled so childishly. Prima almost fell into a fit of giggles when they began telling me just what exactly 'bleeding' was. It wasn't, as it turns out, as bad as they described it when it finally came but having no one else to explain the truth to me, I was horrified by the—scary tales that they told me so that when they left me I was frozen to the spot. What made it worse was that they had poked me the way that auntie had done, saying they were checking to see if it would happen any time soon. The way they had found my naïve nature so funny in the same way their mother had made it feel all the embarrassing.

I felt a little _rumpo _and certainly no more prepared for marriage then I had been when I arrived that day, in fact I was even less willing to get married. Why couldn't they all see that I was a little girl? I was a little girl and I was frightened—I wasn't ready for marriage. I got up, leaving my book behind and ran to the end of the garden. I looked around. I wondered if I should run away—I wouldn't have to get married then—I wondered how far I'd actually get if I did run away and realised it wouldn't be very far. For some reason,

I don't know why, it was just a strange moment of insanity; I decided to hide instead and jumped into the nearest tree over looking forum. I sat up there for hours, replaying everything that happened in my head, unable to stop myself from doing so. It became dark before long and the ground disappeared below my feet, the light from the house and touches from the forum was only thing that illuminated the plants and trees around me, and it was very faint.

At that moment my brother, Marcus, came running up the pathway calling my name saying it was time to go home. Deciding it was time to come out of hiding, I made myself know to my brother who looked up and was shocked to see me in the tree.

"What are you doing up there?" he asked as clueless as he ever did, although why his sister was hiding in a tree would see very strange. "Are you playing hide and seek, or something?"

"I was hiding, not seeking" I replied.

"Oh, well you have to come down now—we've got to go home," he said pointing towards the house.

"I can't get down, it's too dark," I replied quite calmly.

"Can't you climb down the way you did up?" he asked.

"I can't remember it."

"Can't you jump down?"

"I'm not jumping six feet down a tree!"

"Can't you get down at all?"

"No!" I snapped finally losing my patience with him, "Go and get help now!"

He skidded off the garden pathway and I sat waiting for someone to help me down. Eventually he returned with a party of people, and I felt rather humiliated that all of them were to see me stuck in the tree. Father had come, as to had Brutus and his two wicked half-sisters who had driven me up in the tree in the first place. I glared at them, "I said bring help not an audience."

"Well, Brutus is the one who was going to help," Marcus explained, "But father and the girls wanted to watch."

Father rolled his eyes, "What a childish thing to do! I'm surprised at you, daughter!"

"Me too" I replied.

"Oh, come now!" Brutus said turning to father, "It's not that childish. Besides, she's not grown-up quite yet," he stood below me and reached his arms up to me. "You're going to have to jump and I'll catch you."

"No!" I cried, shrinking up onto the branch even further out of his reach, "You'll drop me!"

He smiled, "I won't, I promise."

"You will, you'll drop me!"

"I won't!"

"You will!"

"I won't!"

"Will!"

"Won't!"

"Oh, _Bona Dea!_ Will you just pull yourself together and get down?" my father snapped over our childish argument, "You're behaving like a baby!"

"She is a baby!" Secunda said out of her fit of laughter.

"No, I'm not!" I snapped over to her and without thinking I threw myself out of the tree and at Brutus as he had told me to. Not seeing me coming this time, he was taken by surprise by my suddenly jumping out on the tree. He stumbled backwards and we ended up on the floor. Once I finally remembered how to move, I leapt onto me feet, "I told you he wouldn't catch me."

Once I climbed up, he too managed to pull himself to his feet, "Yes, well, you caught me off guard."

"Yes, but I was still right."

"Yes, but that isn't fair because you just suddenly jumped without warning."

"Yes, but you promised you'd catch me."

Father stepped between us, "It doesn't matter! We're going home—" he looked at me, "Don't ever climb a tree again, you're far too old to be climbing up trees and getting stuck; only little children do that!"

The fact that I had done something that only little children are supposed to do didn't stop my father from arranging my marriage before I left. Sure enough, I did being to bleed not long before my thirteenth birthday, and this scared me for this meant that I was ready to get married and have children. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw clearly that my body, while starting to change, was not yet ready to have children. I remember asking Marcia what she thought and she said that the earlier you give birth the easier it was supposed to be to give birth. She herself had married my father when she was quite young; she had been fourteen. She was twenty-three now and still had no children; but father didn't keep her for children, he kept her to raise the ones he already had.

There were once more of us, I had several younger sisters, but they all died or miscarried by my mother. My mother, Attila, was worked to the bone by my father to a point where getting back at my father by becoming Caesar's mistress seemed wonderful. I was just a baby when father got rid of her; I don't even know what she looked like. When I asked about her to father, he just said she was a whore and that I was never to speak of her. Marcus could remember mother and scolded my father all the time about divorcing her and in worse fights then the one on the boat a few days ago. He accused father of driving mother to it—and used to say that I didn't have a good role model to follow—this was just before father married Marcia.

When it came to role-models and calling our mother and good role model he just laughed and said that if he wanted me to service in a brothel then he would be happy to call back our mother, but since he wished me to be the finest example of the republican woman, a woman such as our mother wasn't a suitable choice for role model for me.

But then who was there in our family that was better? Aunt Servilia, who also made herself a mistress of Caesar and was divorced by her husband because he couldn't stand her adultery any longer, or Aunt Porcia who was married but had no children. It was a good thing that father did find Marcia and married her because she at least was a good and respectable lady who though she had no children had helped her father raise her brother and stepsiblings in their youth.

The night before my marriage to Bibulus, I had to hand over all of my childhood items, my dolls and various other things as well as my _bulla_, which I was the most sorry to see go. I then had to go into the garden and gather the flowers for my wedding garland. I was fitted into that awful wedding dress that we women have to wear for marriages and the flame coloured veil, of course. Father had taken the auspices and had told us that it would be a private ceremony, which made me feel so much better about the marriage.

My matron of honour Aunt Porcia and my mother was Marcia—and why not? She was more of a mother to me then Attila was, but then Attila never had a chance, did she? Before I went into the marriage ceremony, Marcia had told me what to say and do and—I can't really remember much about the wedding. It was just such an uneventful moment of my life that I didn't bother to remember it. Bibulus was so huge compared to tiny little me—he wasn't very tall, only five-foot-four or something like that, but he was over weight, old at nearly fifty years of age and here I was, a little thirteen year old being married to him. I thought we must have looked ridiculous, but as it turns out—it wasn't that odd at all. Marriages like this happened all the time.

We walked from father's house to Bibulus' house and there he carried me over the doorway and I lit a log on his fire, which burnt throughout the rest of the party. At the end of the party, Marcia hugged her arms around me and protectively called out in horror; "Stay away from my daughter, vile monster!" very professionally like a real actress—this was comical part of the wedding where the bride, the groom and the bride's mother re-enact the rape of the Sabine woman. The two of us backed away and all the guests began to laugh;

"Please!" I cried, almost honestly, "Leave me in peace! Leave me alone!"

At this point, Bibulus was supposed to force me out of Marcia's arms and carry me away, but he quite awkwardly tried to figure out to get me out of Marcia's arms, and I was certainly in not hurry to let go. He placed his arm firmly on mine and pulled while using his other arm to push Marcia away. Eventually, she gave up and let me go, giving out a comical cry when I was out of her arms and in Bibulus'—truth be known, I wanted to go back into Marcia's arms, they were so much safer.

"Who are you?" Bibulus asked, in the ceremonial way.

"I am Porcia Catonis, from the house of Porcii, namesake of Cato and blood relative of the family Livii—and I am now your wife, of your family and tribe," I replied, also in the ceremonial way.

He took my hand and we faced our audience, he turned and removed my veil, "Everyone, this is my new wife, Porcia."

They clapped and I flinched a little as he kissed me on the cheek. As they all clapped they gathered about us to bless and congratulate us on our marriage. My father gave me the dutiful kiss on the forehead of a father, Marcia gave me a warming hug, Aunt Servilia—who always treated me nicely in public—gave me a kiss of poison and a hug of evil but it was just for appearances, my cousins pulled at me and one by one Prima, Secunda and Tertia each kissed me on by one kissed me on the cheeks. Aunt Porcia gave me such a warm embrace that I felt like crying—she was the kindest of all my aunts and I wished that I could just run away home with her, she was the only one who understood me. The other one who I felt understood me, even if he did drop me when he promised not too (I guess that was my fault really), my cousin Brutus gave me a hug and congratulated me on my marriage but I saw in his eyes that he still felt I wasn't ready for this—I still had the ideas of a child, and I think he was right.

When the burning log finally went out, I picked it out and threw it as all the wedding guests scrambled for it—ironically, my own stepmother Marcia caught it. Bibulus brought forwards the fire and water, I placed my hands over it taking responsibility for my new home. One good thing that did excite me was that I'd have a much bigger room to keep all my books in—oh what a child I was!

I had said that before when I was talking to brother and cousin Brutus about the marriage, as soon as I said it I could hear those words flowing through my cousin's head, and then I could see him trying to imagine the other thing that expected of me in marriage, and shifted uncomfortably in his seat at the thought—I was still just a child, what on earth was my father doing to me. That tiny little walking library like me married to an old, fat senator dog like Bibulus—he dreaded to think what on earth he would do with me.

He removed my headdress and my shawl as the guests slowly made their way out. The slaves began to light the hallways and I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, this was my home now—not the same old house I lived in with father, or the small house of Aunt Porcia or the grand house of Junii where I spent the other days of my childhood—this was my home. I was no longer Porcia of the Porcii. I was of the Calpurnii. I was this old man's wife—me—this old, old, old man's wife.

He showed me around his household, leading me on a guided tour, showing me the weaving room, the garden, the bathroom, the kitchens and even children's bedrooms—they all lined up and introduced to me. There were several of them; the eldest was Marcus, he was twenty and looked exactly like his father—so creepy looking, not exactly ugly, but creepy and weasel looking, he was very chubby like his father too—like a big _Rusina_, I remember thinking. He looked down me; I knew he was thinking about what a child I was. The second eldest Gnaeus, who was sixteen, glared at me—it turned out that before Bibulus put himself forwards for my husband, his son had wanted to marry me—so this made our relationship very awkward.

The third eldest was a girl—and I never got on well with girls because they tended to hate me—was Calpurnia, who I called Calpurnilla in order to tell her apart from Lucius Piso's daughter, who is now Caesar's wife. She turned out to be just as spoilt as my cousins Prima, Secunda and Tertia, but she was at least polite to me—at ten-years-old she was not much younger then I was. At least she was younger.

The last of the lot was Marcus, who was seven. The elder two were from Bibulus' first marriage to Domintia, while Calpurnilla and Lucius were his by his second with Domantilla, both of whom he divorced for adultery with, you guessed it, the big G.I.C. Lucius was a lovely little thing who in time I tended to called Bibyllus, little Bibulus. He was a lot like his father, though he was at least thinner. He didn't get on with his elder brother Lucius so I naturally felt pity for him.

My marriage with their father, as I have already stated before, has not been fruitful. On our wedding night I was very thrilled when he just told me where to sleep and didn't bother me at all, and when he didn't visit me at all as I got older things just got better and better for me; I looked after his children and even began to educate Lucius myself, his tutors were terrible. I used to play with Calpurnilla in secret, since I was her stepmother by job was to educate not to play, but I couldn't help myself—she had the most beautiful dolls! Sometimes Lucius and Calpurnilla would come to my bedroom at night in secret and we would talk. They said, ironically, that it was like having a big sister.

In Cyprus, father wrote to me asking how I was adjusting to married life. I didn't tell him that my motherhood had become a sisterhood or that I met with my stepchildren in my bedroom at night to play games and talk of childish things. Instead, I wrote to him informing him that I had taken it upon myself to educate Calpurnilla and Lucius; I had kept hold of my dear Greek teachers who had looked after me as a girl and had them help too. I told him that Bibulus was very kind to me and that I had grown fond of my new stepchildren—though this only really applied to Calpurnilla and Lucius. Marcus I saw no more then his father, which wasn't often, and Gnaeus gave me evil glances whenever we bumped into each other.

In his letters, father appeared to be well—Brutus too—I had heard plenty of rumours regarding him and from the way father talked about him in his letters, I was starting to believe that it was true. Apparently, as well as learning the magic of politics under my father's wing, he seemed to have found a wonderful way to make money on the side, he made himself into a money lender with a rather high interest rate. Most people who lent from him obvious killed themselves trying to pay him back, but when they couldn't do it—I heard that he hired common thugs to deal with them so he didn't have to. This didn't sound like my silly bookish cousin Brutus, but I suppose every boy gets fire in them once thrown into the melting pot of a man's world. I was disturbed by these rumours, morally, but on the side—I serious didn't care—anyone who needs to borrow money was in serious trouble and should try earning it. What's the point in borrowing an amount they know they can't pay back? They get killed then it's their own silly fault.

Still, when I told Lucius and Calpurnilla about this I confided that it was a completely different side of silly bookish cousin Brutus. He was never into politics or anything that went with his family's traditions—I used to joke to Aunt Servilia that there was no point since there wasn't any kings to chase out of Rome, she never found that funny, but then she didn't really have a sense of humour. No, from as early as I can remember Brutus had been sitting around, his face buried in a book—Plato was his favourite—a book that contradicts everything Lucius Junius Brutus stood for. Plato believed that a state should be ran by one man, a dictator, who is enlightened through experience and learning, that democracy is doomed to failure—nothing ever gets done (Plato might be right at that point!) but with a dictator, he at least is able to make effective moves—even if he does chose to make dangerous ones also.

The first few years of my marriage to Bibulus were very peaceful—he didn't bother me, I didn't bother him, he left me to myself and he had the honour of boosting that he had the most virginal wife in Rome—and true it was, for he never touched me. I was a species of statue. But then, during the five years my father was away, I grew up. I stopped playing with Calpurnilla, but then she stopped playing too once she grew up some more, and began trying to do that what Roman matrons did best—weave and sew. Aunt Servilia used to lock me in a cupboard when I did it wrong, and she was right about what she said before, Calpurnilla was the one who taught me the weaving—not vice-versa. I did however teach her some basic Greek and various other subjects that she never dreamed of.

Calpurnilla wasn't particularly well educated like I was—in fact she wasn't very clever at all. Her handwriting was disgraceful, her Latin was absurd and her maths was ridiculous, and everything else wasn't worth mentioning. I enlisted my old tutor who had lived and taken care of me as a girl, and requested that Bibulus let me educate her and Lucius together—he didn't argue, though Marcus and Gnaeus did, they couldn't understand why he adored me so much when he never did anything with me. I couldn't understand fully either, but I suppose he just liked the fact that I was his wife, even in name, and that he knew I would never stray like Marcus and Gnaeus' mother or Calpurnilla and Lucius' mother.

When I was sixteen, I began to envy the lives of normal Roman matrons—not only could they weave better then I but they could have children with their husbands. Secunda married Marcus Aemilius Lepidus in the new-year and had a daughter with him. I wished that I had a child of my own after that—but it was a husband's choice whether he lay with you or not. I remember that in the June of that year, the man that Calpurnilla, a man called Valerius on Pompey's side of the senate, died suddenly—Bibulus was furious and he sent me out to Pompey's house to see what he was thinking, by claiming I was there to see Julia.

Now, I didn't particularly like Julia—not because she was Caesar's daughter but because she was so scatterbrained, vein and a bit of a personality void. She was a very kind, gentle and nice person, but that was only because she was rather… pointless. She had no real beliefs nor did she have much of an education, she was as bad as Calpurnilla, but I couldn't sit next to her and have a conversation with her. Stupidity aside, she at least could weave and that's how I got my way into Pompey's house. I sent a message to her asking if she might help me, and she, knowing how bad I was at it, agreed.

She was beautiful… but oh, did she know it! When I was a child, she used to spend a good deal of time at Aunt Servilia's household because her father was always there seeing Aunt Servilia and Brutus—Julia used to spend time with him and Prima, and since I was old enough to stand on two feet I was hanging off Prima's arm—her own life-sized doll, I used to spend time with Julia too. As a girl, her father wanted her to marry a relative of Lucius Cornelia Sulla—I can't remember who it was—but she didn't want to because and said she preferred Servilius Caepio's heir, who happened to be my cousin Brutus. So that match was set up and stood for several years—then of course Pompey Magnus danced onto the scene and Caesar decided he wanted Pompey's legions and influence more then the riches of our family, so he broke that off after Julia announced that she didn't mind Pompey, and when Servilia made a small moan, she nearly swung at Pompey when he offered to marry his eldest daughter Pompeia to my cousin. He naturally didn't want to marry her either—the daughter of the man who killed his father.

"You mind a lot?" I remember asking one day when he was reading.

He smiled and then laughed a little before replying, "Don't worry, I'll get over it."

And it was around that time my marriage talks began; I would never have imagined that by that time next year I was going to get married.

As soon as I had walked in that day, Julia's plastered on smile annoyed me and seriously got under my skin. I plastered on a smile nonetheless and gave her a hug. She expanded her arms to admire me and laughed.

"My, my… you've grown-up since we last spoke, Porcia!" she cried in a high pitched voice, "How long as it been, three years?"

I shrugged keeping my smile, "Something like that."

She motioned me into a chair and a slave brought over some lemon water for both of us. She tapped her head as if to pull out a thought and slapped her knee upon remembering, "You know I was just thinking about you the other day…" she said, "When you were really little and your old Uncle Servilius, not long before he died. He used to always sit you on his knee, and ruffle up your brother's hair while he and your father would argue with my father. It was so hard to take him seriously!"

I kept my smile, "As you say. I cannot remember my Uncle Servilius, he died when I was very young."

She nodded awkwardly and then smiled again, "_Bona Dea!_ You've changed so… you know you look very beautiful, Porcia."

I smiled as I drank my water, "Do I? Thank you."

"You look like your _mater_."

That got my attention, "Do I?"

"Yes, if you don't mine me saying so," she said quickly, "She was very pretty. I hope you don't mind my being honest…"

"Of course not, I commend honesty," I finished.

"But you were a skinny little thing when you were little."

I laughed, "Yes, I know. It was a shock to wake-up one morning and see all this change."

"Well, it's certainly change for the best. Your father probably won't recognise when he gets back, when does he get back?"

"Not quite yet," I replied, putting down my cup, "His term should be up next year, he and Brutus will return in the March of next year I believe."

Julia smiled, "How exciting! It must be nice to know you'll see your father again."

"Yes, very and my cousin, I like to think I'm close with him too."

She nodded uncomfortably and then leant forwards, "You don't think he's still angry with me do you? I'd hate for him to be angry with me still."

"Oh no, he got over that _years_ ago," I assured her, remembering that fine letter he wrote me at the time. He had said that he couldn't see the point in marriage now he's had the freedom of being away from his mother and sisters—he had to put up with them, but at least the option of taking a wife was his. _If only I could choose who my sisters were_, he had written, _I wonder if I even want t get married and tie myself to a nagging shadow the way other men do. I can't think of one happy marriage for the men in our family_. I smiled as I thought of this; "He doesn't see the point in marriage any more."

"Oh, what a pity!" Julia cried in her childish voice, "Marriage is lovely, surely you agree? Oh, how horrid! How could he not want to be married? He doesn't seem like the sort to stay unmarried, like cousin Antonius, father says he's positively vulgar and will never get married, but silly, quiet, sarcastic, bookish little Brutus, not marry? Oh how _tristifico_!"

I shrugged, "To each his own I suppose. I think he just enjoys the freedom of not having to worry about a wife at home. With the amount of people getting divorced and the number of children dying every year, he probably doesn't want to risk the pain of going through all of that. He's very _sensilis_, you know."

I left without having seen Pompey or having learnt anything about weaving—Bibulus was naturally annoyed with me when I returned without any information but he got over it very quickly.

Sure enough in the March of the next year, father returned and Brutus with him; I'll never forget him when he returned, he looked slant ways at my father as he went on moaning and groaning to Bibulus as he came through the door, mainly about the weather oddly enough! Marcia greeted him the way a good stoic wife should and father was horrified to discover, from Bibulus, that Marcus had become the drunk he still is today—and sorry for him not being there to greet them. Aunt Servilia and father exchanged hellos and she greeted her son with affection. Tertia had changed so much that her brother barely recognised her; she was eleven now, and looked even more like Caesar.

"And where is my daughter?" father shouted in his loud voice, "Don't tell me she's down the drinking hole with Marcus also."

At that moment I emerged from behind the pillar from which I had be observing the reunion, wondering what to make of everything. Now I was summoned out, I broke out in a smile and came out. "No, _tata_, I'm right here and sober."

"Then come here and greet your father, girl!" he said in his grumpy sounding voice. I went over and hugged him, "One would think she didn't even notice we were gone."

"Believe me, _tata_" I replied honestly, "I think us and all of the senate noticed you were gone and will notice you're back too." I let him go and turned to my cousin, who was still tied up with his mother and sister. I called and he turned, "Good to see you back too, Brutus. From what we've heard you had a good time."

He laughed, "Yes, well, one has to make ones own entertainment out there but still… it is good to be home and back in Rome. I'd forgotten how much I missed it, not to mention everyone here—speaking of which," he stood back and looked at me, "You've changed an awful lot since we last saw each other."

"It has been five years. I'm bound to have changed."

"Yes, well" he said trying to figure out some of his words, "Good job growing-up. What are you seventeen now?"

"Very soon," I replied.

"Gods, it seems like only last week you were that scrawny little twelve-year-old stuck in a tree!"

He was right too—looking out over the barren lands surrounding the house, watching Calpurnilla as she fights the illness, seeing little Gnaeus and Pompeia with their mother as they rush around in the very barren lands I have insulted, I think how long ago it was since I too had been a child. I haven't any memories before my twelfth birthday, I wonder if they will have memories of these days of civil war—I'm sure they will—but I wonder what it could have been in my childhood that took my memories from me.

I should finish now and tend to Calpurnilla while I still have enough time—

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**Well there you go...**


	6. 1: Crimen diligo

**I'd like to thank the two reviewers who have reviewed and I'd also like to clear a few things up… while everything I write is as fairly close to the TV show as I can get it, some of the characters, their personalities of the historical characters I've thrown into this, while inspired by the real guys, I've changed to fit the story. Some of the characters are made-up to help the story along… because let's face it; _HBO/BBC Rome_ isn't exactly accurate when it comes to the characters… Look at Atia! Also, yes Scribonia is the same chick that will go on to marry Octavian.**

_I still don't own Rome and if I have to write the disclaimer one more time I'll go mad._

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I feel bitterly ashamed as I write this, and I have not written in quite a long time. Several weeks ago was when Calpurnilla fell ill. I tried to nurse her but while Scribonilla recovered, Calpurnilla became worse and worse. I wrote to Bibulus about it, asking him what he thought I should do. I asked whether I should send her back to Rome as Claudia kindly offered to look after her for me in her previous letter to Brutus when he told her of Calpurnilla's illness. However, Bibulus replied saying that he wouldn't send any child of his back to Caesar's Rome, so I was left alone to tend to my sickly stepdaughter. As the weeks went by she still didn't recover, I called a local Greek doctor who tried to cure her with strange new methods. Not long after that, I found her coughing blood. The doctor shook his head when he saw this and said there was nothing to be done—

Calpurnilla struggled to sustain her life until her father was to return, until her brothers were to return, but in the end… she could not. I stayed with her for the last hours, she slept peacefully in that time, not in pain, until her breathing just stopped and she didn't draw breath again. My heart sank so low and hard that I couldn't bear to lift my head without feeling a great _pondus_ come over my mind. I felt sick with the guilt that I couldn't save her—Cornelia has tried to comfort me for the weeks that followed but my guilt was overwhelming. The men, father, brother, Lucius, Scipio, Pompey, Quintus, Sextus, Cassius, Cicero and Brutus all came to see her off to Dis. I lit the funeral pyre myself, and watching the flames swallow sweet, silly little Calpurnilla made me feel all the worse—oh what a shame to burn the physical body of such a beautiful spirit. Bibulus wasn't there of course—the one good news we received was that he had managed to subdue a rebellion in the East of Syria, while Lucius remained with him Gnaeus returned to see Lucius and I, so attend his sister's funeral.

He looked so coldly at me I could feel ice rush up the back of my neck. I clutched Lucius' shoulder as he wept, seeing his sweet sister die and burn away hurt him more deeply then anything could ever have hurt him. "Don't leave me too, Porcia," he told me afterwards, "I couldn't bare to lose another sister!" I embraced him as Gnaeus snorted in the grunt way his father did.

I glared, "What is wrong with you? Your sister has just died; show some sympathy for your brother at least!"

"Yes, Calpurnilla is dead" he snapped back, "Because you didn't look after her!" my heart sprang up high as Lucius wept all the more, denying it. Gnaeus glared down at him down and spat, "And stop crying, you stupid boy! Are you a girl? Pull yourself together—and don't call our stepmother your sister, she's not your sister! Your only sister was Calpurnilla and she's dead. She's dead! Get over it!"

I was naturally relieved when he finally left. Brutus came to see him off too—I'm glad he was there; I needed some emotional support to see that selfish pig off as he was sure to spit insults if he didn't have an appearance to keep. Since my cousin was there, he smiled kindly and even embraced me the way a stepson should a stepmother, he ruffled Lucius' hair, mounted his horse and left without a word of poison or spite. As I watched him disappear down the road I felt an overwhelming relief that I had never felt even before when I'd seen Gnaeus go. After I had sent Lucius to bed—he was still upset about Calpurnilla so Cornelia said that he could sleep in little Gnaeus Pompey's room, (we discovered them later that night reading books under the blankets)—I had sat in the plain living room with Brutus and we spoke about everything that was going on.

After he told me that Caesar had been chasing the armies up and down Greece and soon plans to come closer to here to finally meet them in battle—he's gathered another ten soldiers for every one of Caesar's—the war should be over soon. "They always say that!" I replied, no convinced that it was yet 'it', "Didn't Pompey say that we would be back by the Kalends of March—for nearly two years has Caesar chased us up and down the Italy, to Greece, up and down again."

"Pompey says he's sure this time—"

"Silly old fool! What does he know? How does he know the war will be over after this? Wars don't end like that," I said, clicking my fingers, "He should know, he's fought in a billion of them." As he laughed, I lay back in my chair and sighed deeply, thinking of those feelings that I felt as my stepson left, that great relief I felt as he disappeared down the dusty road. I thought these feelings out loud: "As I watched Gnaeus disappear down that road today, I just knew and I still know that I'll never see him again—and I won't see Marcus—and I won't see Bibulus either. They're all going to die and I'll never have to see them again…"

"Don't be negative" Brutus began.

"I'm being positive," I finished, feeling quite evil at what I was saying but not caring, I don't know what I'm doing or thinking in these cases, "I don't care that I won't see them anymore. In my marriage family I only ever loved Calpurnilla and Lucius, I hated Gnaeus and I disliked Marcus, and I have no affection for Bibulus who treats me as if I am an object that he can call his own, as if I were a precious vase that no one could touch—and I fear I'll never have any children now. I don't know which is indeed worse, being touched by that horrible old man in order to become with child or remaining a virgin but never knowing the joys of motherhood."

I could see him shift in his seat, clearing his throat in that way he did when feeling awkward. "So you mean you haven't yet been, well, you haven't yet done, err… been intimate with your husband?"

I tilted my head and looked at him, "You mean am I still a virgin? Yes, I thought it was common knowledge and I thought you of all people would have guessed. I could see it in your eyes when I first married him, you thought me still a child; it appears that Bibulus still holds that manner of opinion. I don't blame him, I was only twelve at the time—it would have been most unethical if he were to violate my immature body even if it was capable of hosting a child."

"You're not twelve any more," he said quietly. I caught him looking me up and down before looking away again. "You're not 'immature' anymore. Surely to, fulfil the actions natural of a husband to make would no longer be considered a violation."

"You left for four and a half years," I explained, "You noticed my maturity because you didn't see me grow into it. Bibulus took me for his wife at the age of twelve and for those years I had stayed in his house and therefore I didn't grow. His children look on me as a sister rather then a stepmother—"

"Well, I suppose that's natural" Brutus said, gesturing his had understandably, "You are close to them in age, closer then their own brothers."

"Then to have a child with their father would be a violation of an immature body, one that could easily be considered that of a stepdaughter," I explained. The light in my cousin's face understood my meaning and nodded to it in agreement, seeing my point. I sighed and reclined, "I wish I could behave like a little sister, my elder brother being so immature, I never get a chance to be the younger on."

Brutus laughed, "You can pretend to be my younger sister if you're that desperate to be looked down on." I sensed in his tone that he believed I wasn't made of the stuff younger sisters were made of, and I certainly didn't want him of all people to treat me like a younger sister.

"I don't even think I want to be reminded we're first cousins," I replied, bursting into a small bout of laughter.

He smiled, and there was silence for a short while before suddenly saying, "I prefer your company to anyone else's here."

I touched my hand on my cheek and smiled, "Thank you, I prefer your company too. You're the only one here with two brain cells to rub together—father is bad tempered, Pompey isn't interested in anything but battle, Scipio is the same, Cicero is boring, Cassius scares me and I won't even go into the others here…"

"Well, I'm currently hiding from Cicero and Cassius at the moment," he admitted, "Frankly, they have worried me very much… I mean, Cassius for one; is never off my back and is always following me around. I can't imagine why when is line of friends is much more advanced them mine—in the camp I normally just sit around with Cicero while he spits his speeches down my ear."

"Won't they think to look here for you?"

"They wouldn't think me the sort to be with the women," he replied, "Would you?"

I shrugged, "Everyone has a hidden side to their personality, don't they?"

"I suppose so," he agreed, nodding his head.

"And none so more then you," I finished with a smile.

He raised and eye brow, "Why do you say that?"

I pulled myself up and sat looking him, trying to look into his soul. Behind his rather boyish exterior, it was hard to open the window of his heart, and try to understand what he was or what he wanted. Caesar had once watched Brutus make a speech in the senate, and turned to the men of his party saying: _"I don't know what that boy wants, but whatever it is, he wants it badly!"_ So, if the man who loved him as a father couldn't look into the mind of my cousin, then how could I aspire to?

"You have one of the famous names in Rome," I began, "But yet no one knows you, even if they think they do, no one can possibly see what you want or what you feel is important. No one can see cruelty in you unless they witness it or the ruthlessness that you have burning at the centre of you. It's hard to understand where you think your life should go, or whether even you know. You are the greatest puzzle in Rome."

He just sat and stared at me, not disagreeing or agreeing with what I said. He tapped his fingers on his knee, "Oh dear Gods!" he finally said; "I'm not really that unpredictable, am I?"

"That's the impression I always had," I said, "No one fully understands you."

"You seem to," he said quickly, without thinking.

I heard it, and without think nodded: "Maybe I do, perhaps I'm a bit like that too."

He smiled, "You know you are."

I sat reading the other day with no one but my own company—the birds were singing outside, and I had blocked out the sunlight with a piece of old cloth that would never become a dress. I always hated sunlight, and preferred to make myself an artificial darkness in my room, on my own. I sometimes wished we should see through darkness and be blinded by the son, so that we humans might sleep in the day and move in the night. Oh what bliss! It was at that moment that Cassius burst into the room. I leapt in my chair as the door went crash and he stalked in, he saw me and shrank back a bit.

"Oh sorry, I'm sorry!" he replied, "It's so dark in here that I didn't think anyone would be in here."

I looked up in annoyance, "Fine. What do you want?"

"Have you see Brutus anywhere?"

"Not since last night," I replied without thinking. I quickly realised my mistake of course, either Cassius would misinterpret what she meant or she had just given away where her cousin seeks refuge. Which was worse?

"Brutus was here last night?" Cassius said, turning to face me straight away, his face turning into a smile. "So it's here that he's been disappearing to in the evenings… We have been wondering." I turned away, and within seconds I found his face looking over my shoulder. "Tell me, does he stay the whole evening?"

"Of course not," I snapped back, pushing him away, "Just to get away from the likes of you and Cicero boring him to death with your constant moaning and groaning. Anyway, why do you want to see him now?"

"None of your business!" he replied, "What does he do here with you when he's here?"

"What do you think?" I snapped back, once again realising my mistake. Even though Cassius couldn't possibly imagine that others would, his dirty mind would twist it on me some how. I glared at him, "Take that cocky smile off you face."

"Like what?"

"That's none of _your_ business! Just talk." I replied in the same tone. He stood up straight and folded his arms behind me, stepping backwards, making his way to the door. "I'll tell him you were looking for him, if you want."

"Don't bother!" he yelled back.

As soon as he was gone, I got up to glance out the door before signalling to Brutus that it was safe to come out. He came out from behind the curtain and sat down taking a deep breath. "See what I mean?" he said when I rejoined him, "And you didn't believe me when I said he was stalking me."

"I see it now," I teased, "He's obsessed with you, it's the third time this week I've found him snooping about up here and now he knows where to look for you in the evenings. I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," he replied, "I'd have cracked under that pressure too."

"How could he possible think that we'd—" I began.

"Let him think what he wants," he replied simply, "We'll know he's wrong."

A great shiver rouse from my centre and rushed through my veins. He caught sight and watched me as I wrapped my arms around my body, as if to keep warm, "You're probably right… might even put him off coming here."

"I don't know, he can be very curious."

I laughed, "The he'll be disappointed that there will be no show when he comes to collect you this evening now he knows where you'll be hiding."

He took my book from my hands and looked at what it was. It was his beloved Plato, and it brought a smile to his face, before he handed it back to me. He nodded, thinking of something that I couldn't possibly understand or know about, but what ever it was, it made him smile even more. It was like Caesar said, what ever he wanted, he wanted badly. He just sighed and nodded, "Perhaps"

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**Watch and wait, no one knows when I'll next update.**


	7. 1: Cruorem macula

I know that I got Porcia's stepsons mixed up, but that was because this story started out as an inspiration from a role-play I did with my cousin ages ago where I had Porcia have her own son with the name Lucius which she falls pregnant with just before her husband dies, but I figured I better cut that part out… so I've changed the name back round, the boy with her is now Lucius. Now, originally I was going to have three different stories in this story but now, since they're all part of the same tale, they are now all together. Just to confuse you more, this was going to be two different chapters, but I merged it all together and separated all the parts with '…' ellipses. This is the last part in 'part 1' (that explains the '1' next to all the chapters) the next lot of chapters will be in third person, bringing in the other characters all over Rome. Vorenus and Pullo will be on soon.

_I still don't own Rome and if I have to write the disclaimer one more time I'll go mad._

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Some 60,000 men walked onto the battlefield of Pharsalus to face Gaius Julius Caesar's 22,000 men—most of whom was made up of what little survived from the previous battles he fought and lost. They tell me that Mark Antony had tried to bring Caesar reinforcements, but they were lost at sea by a great storm, and what little have past that storm sailed slap bang into my husband Bibulus and his sons, Gnaeus and Marcus, who sank what was left of the fleet. People said I ought to be pleased at the time, but I cared very little for his victory as Bibulus was always an awful gloater. I sat alone in the house while the men of Pompey's camp sat in victory, gloating and drinking themselves into a stupor.

I spoke to Brutus about this victory, and he was as melancholy as I but not for the same reasons. While I feared that the numbers would be thrown back into our faces, Brutus was depressed at the fact that Caesar had been so tragically defeated. "He was as my father to me," he kept saying over and over as people asked what troubled him. "I know that this defeat of Caesar is a great victory, but I cannot enjoy it in the same manner as the other men in that camp. It is a bittersweet victory."

I started to wonder whether or not I would ever see Bibulus and his sons again. A part of me hoped that I wouldn't, I didn't want to see him nor his sons again… but when I received a letter from him from Egypt saying that he was on his way back now—I didn't ask why he was in Egypt but I knew why he was leaving—Marcus and Gnaeus were dead. When I saw that letter I fell backwards onto my 'bed', feeling terribly guilty. I thought about what I had told Brutus that time, that I hoped I'd never see them again, and it had come true. I admit that I wished Bibulus gone too, but a part of me was quite relieved that he wasn't dead, though I couldn't help but wonder how long it would be until he died also.

I admit it, I am very depressing at the moment—but that is because our reasons for being happy were over quite quickly. In my room, I spoke endlessly with Cornelia, Scribonia, my Lucius, and Cornelia's children little Pompeia and little Gnaeus. They asked us when the civil wars would be over, and Cornelia told them that it wouldn't be too long. I felt like saying that it might be some time yet… I had the feeling even then. For several days and nights we sat and waiting for Pompey's word… My father had scolded him by saying to him that to leave Caesar's armies to starve was dishonourable and that they should destroy what was left of Caesar and his armies 'under the eyes of Mars.' Scipio spat compliments down his ears, according to Brutus when he told me all of this. I said to him then: "I think they should just starve Caesar into defeat. As much as I agree with honour, I think a lot of lives can be spared if we just leave Caesar and his men to themselves, wait for his legions to desert."

"I have to say I agree," Brutus replied, still solemn in thinking of Caesar's doom. "I have a terrible, sickly feeling, that this is all going to go wrong. Think of how long Caesar survived in Gaul. Your father had campaigned like mad in the senate for him to bring his legions home rather then face that army of thousands; still Caesar remained in Gaul and defeated that army of thousands, eventually talking the land and riches of Gaul." He made a deep sigh and looked at me in his elusive way, "I'm starting to see what you said before."

I couldn't exactly remember what I had said until I looked over the pages of this diary. It turns out that Auntie Porcia was right when she said writing things down always helps you to remember the important stuff. As I look over these pages, I realise just how much I have spoke to my cousin Brutus, how much he has been a figure head in my life. I find myself thinking of the moments that are not written in this log, moments that happened when I did find time to write it down. I've come to think that if one recorded everything he said in the course of one day, you'd have all the material you need to make the optimistic drifter in any good play. I envied how Brutus could always drift through life, not wondering or even caring where he was going, or what he wanted. When he did want something though, he fought like what your run of the mill Roman would do, and fight like anything for it. He was strange—he still is strange—he's a man who doesn't seem to suit the basics of any society, rather like me really, not heartless and hard going as we Romans have taken the world on the bases of.

I suppose we both belong to a world that hasn't been founded yet. I wonder when that world will be founded—and when it is founded, would there be any wars. Certainly not about dictators or republics, not in my society, laugh if you will but I presume the great wars of my perfect world would be over what the different Greeks tell us. What I think would be very stupid is a war over something personal or unique to a society, like custom or religion, what point is there in such wars? They would be banned in my new world too. Frankly, I think that new world would be on that far off island somewhere with the books. The wars would be fought verbally, my friends and I against Brutus and his friends, arguing over teachings of stoicism, or something else ridiculous. The fights would never get very violent, and even if it did come to physical battle I wouldn't mind; I could take Brutus very easily, I've had to fight a lot more then him.

When I was little, I'm told for I do not remember, I had some something wrong—as I always seemed to do wrong—and Aunt Servilia in the way she did, grabbed hold of me, yanked me off my chair and dragged me away towards that damned cupboard he always confined me to. I kicked and screamed; I hit her hands trying to break her grasp on me. Finally, when she tried to stick me in that cupboard I bit her; she smacked me around the face and shut the cupboard. I banged on the door and screamed trying to open it. Tertia tells me that she took as chair and ordered her sewing to be brought to her so she might work by the cupboard side.

"You're not coming out until you're quiet!" she snapped through the door. I quickly became claustrophobic, and that made me beg her to open the door all the more, telling her that it was hard for be to breath, that I felt scared… I must have sounded so pathetic. "Say you're sorry!" she snapped through the door.

"I'm sorry!" I cried in desperation.

"You don't even know what you're sorry for, do you?" she replied.

I don't know today, and I didn't know then, so I just said what she wanted to hear: "I'm sorry for always doing wrong, for always letting you down, for always being so pathetic, for always complaining, I know I'm a waste and I should be disciplined… I beg you, let me out!"

"You need to be disciplined" she just said through the door in her calm and cool sounding voice, it felt like one of those cold snap winds in Winter hearing her through the white line of light I could see through the door of the closet. "So I'm leaving you here… I'd like to see how long you hold up." And I heard her walking off, and I quickly began trying to open the door myself. I didn't think to be quiet; she couldn't see me be quiet if she'd walked off. I just wanted to get out. I remember very little of that event, it's like all my childhood with Servilia was blotted out of my mind so I wouldn't have to think about it. I can recall the feels somewhere at the back of my mind and match them to the stories I've heard from my ever-so-understanding cousins Prima Secunda and Tertia.

It was Tertia who finally let me out, she had been passing by and had been distracted by the kicked and screaming coming from the cupboard. Apparently she had to move a chair to open the cupboard, it had been wedged against the handles so there was no wonder I couldn't get the doors open. Yet, even when she got the doors open I couldn't stop screaming. While I finally stopped screaming, I couldn't get my head around being out of the cupboard, I could barely tell where I was. Not knowing what to do, Tertia ran off to get her sisters, who all just gathered around me, staring at me like statues, whispering about what they could do with me. When they suggested getting their mother, I started screaming again. They got their brother in the end, and when regular 'shh' didn't shut me up, he grabbed me by my shoulders.

"Look at me" he said, "Look at me and do as I tell you." He made a fist out of his right hand, wrapped it in his other hand and placed them on his heart, "Do as I do…" he said, as I mimicked what he did. "Now just think about how quickly your heart is beating, that's what's making your chest hurt, and your breathing fast. Now take a deep breath and tell yourself that you're safe. That is your heart and it's in your hands, no one can take it away from you, no one can make it do things you don't want it to. It's yours, remember. Now tell yourself that you're safe, your heart is beating and you're safe."

"I'm safe," I replied, calming down, finally forgetting about his sisters staring eyes.

Maybe the reason I blotted my childhood out of my mind was because my mind doesn't like to admit that I was scared of Aunt Servilia as a child. I am old enough to stand up for myself now and too big to fit in that little cupboard the locked me in. That was the one thing I am glad I married Bibulus from, it took me away from my terrible childhood with Servilia and her spoilt daughters. Ever since then, I have had moments when I was scared and yet I never forgot that thing that Brutus taught me that day, and I use it every time I'm panicked. It always helped me calm down, partly because it made me feel safer but also because it made me think of him, and how he managed to calm me down even though I had been so scared. It was hard for some to imagine my cousin Brutus being someone who taught me how to stay calm in a crisis. It's amazing how the little things work, isn't it?

Nights went by so quickly, I felt scared as the day went by and Pompey wondered what to do. It was like we were all over hanging over a cliff, and Caesar was getting ready to push us all over into the rocks, stones and waters below out feet. I kept trying to tell myself that it was alright, but I worked myself into such a panic as always. Then, on the field of Pharsalus, while both sides expected Pompey to win, the armies of the Optimates faced Caesar's small army. Pompey paced around his tent as my father, Brutus, Cicero, Scipio and several others, including Cassius, sat and tried to pass time. All of a sudden, he spoke up turning to his slave: "Send to Rome," he said in his country-like way, "Tell them the decisive battle begins today."

Pompey readied himself for the battle, as did all the other men, all fought in this battle against Caesar. It was an act of honour. I feared for my father who has not fought in years, and was not a great a soldier as my great-great-grandfather, the Censor. My father was the Philosopher. My brother came to see me with Brutus and Cicero to tell us the wonderful news. I felt as if I was going to be sick, a terrible omen had told me that many men would die today and I dreaded to think who they would be. This could be a final goodbye for all I knew. I clasped myself to my brother tightly, for though he was a disgrace to what we of the Porcii value so much, he was my brother and I couldn't help loving him. Yet, as I hugged him I realised that he didn't seem of endless drinking and he certainly wasn't drunk. I would have thought that being such a danger and yet celebration, he would have drunk more, even for him. But as he stood in front of me now, he was sober.

"You haven't been drinking?" I said straight and frankly, I hated beating about the brush, like most women do. He smiled and shook his head and my eyes widened, "Why, or rather, how?"

"Because, I don't know, something hit me in what you and father said before, saying I was a disgrace. I found myself looking in the mirror, and finally, I could see what you could all see. I was a mad man with his wine flask…" he took my hands and smiled, "You are worth ten of me, you're worth ten of a normal person, so you must be worth a million of what I am. I know it will be hard, and I know I'll trip up at points, but I will make myself a worthy brother of you. If I'm to die today, then I intend to do it sober. If I come back, I will follow in our great-great-grandfather's steps as father has done."

"You've become a stoic?" I said, close to laughter at the very idea.

"No, I'm far too selfish to become a stoic," Marcus replied, laughing also. His breath was clean, smelling of the poor foods of war, but at least it wasn't wine. "I will be a soldier. I could never be a philosopher like father, or adore the teachings of the Greeks like you and Cousin Brutus. I intend to make myself a worthy brother of you, and a worthy son of Cato."

I smiled, "You'll have to eat more porridge."

He laughed, "I've grown to like it since I started washing it down with water." He took my hands and looked seriously at me, "I am serious, Porcia. I don't deserve a sister like you, but it's time you did become my little sister rather then my keeper. I will do right by you and father, I swear to Dis I will."

I held his hands tightly in mine; fighting back the tears that wanted to break loose from my eyes. I kept them back, however I wished to speak my mind no matter how un-stoic it was what I said: "I love you, brother. Bellona protect you, please come back safe."

He embraced me in the brotherly way he had denied me for the twenty years of my life I had been his sister. He finally broke away and smiled, turning to Brutus, "I'll see you down stairs." As he left, I wondered if I would indeed see he who was my brother again.

I then turned to the cousin who I might never see again. I felt a painful tug at my heart; I thought it would be natural, it was the fear of losing a family member who I feel so close to… but, I don't know, it was something else. I can't remember saying anything, but I embraced him and let him go. I don't understand this tugging pain I'm experiencing. It feels as if, as if something is wrong with my heart, it isn't bad like when Caesar's grandfather died of a sudden heart attack just because he couldn't reach his shoes. I suppose the feeling is just strange because I've never felt it before... It must just be fear, fear of what is going happen. Something about the way my brother and cousin were behaving, as if this was a last goodbye…

I wanted to cry… First time in many years, I know, but I did… I wanted to cry and I don't even know or understand why. I suppose it might not be instinct or fear, maybe it's suppose to be a real sickness I'm catching. But then, I've never read about such symptoms in all the books I've read, and I've read a lot. Maybe, this is just a fear or feeling that I have to come to terms with on my own.

…

Some 60,000 men walked onto the battlefield of Pharsalus to face Gaius Julius Caesar's 22,000 men—recall this day for many years to come, tell it in history books, teach it to your children, mark this tragic day in the books of history and tell of the tale of how Pompey's 60,000 men became from blood in the mud and how Caesar's 22,000 men rolled up the line like a tapestry spreading out from the top of a temple. I only know what happened from what I heard, which may be wrong but—Pompey thought that he could make his move on Caesar without him noticing, but whatever this plan of tactic was, Caesar saw what was happening and sent Antony to out to slam straight into Pompey's left flank, picking off each man one by one from the side, knocking them over like toppling pillars. Pompey and his armies turned and fled, while most others returned to the camp, the forces of the republic had fallen, history will remember this day, I am sure…

Scribonia came rushing into me in a fit of fear to tell the news; her beautiful dark blonde hair was a tangle of rats' tails, her eyes full of water and fear. The women in the household moved their children about as if they were sheep. Scribonia grabbed my hand and dragged me alone, "Your father has been wounded, Porcia! Your brother asks you to come quickly!" she cried.

"Where is your sister-in-law Cornelia?" I asked quickly, "Where are the children you're your Uncle Pompey?"

"I don't know!" she said, trying to keep calm, "My husband, my husband tells me that he's waiting for word from Metellus Scipio before I can know what to do. I assume Cornelia and the children have already fled with Pompey. Oh, Porcia… go to your father and find out what on earth is happening!"

I rushed as fast as I could to the camp where my father was—I feared that when I got there I would see faces of my family missing, my friends… would Cicero be there, would Scipio be, would Cassius, or my brother… or Brutus? I feared the worst, failing to keep it out of my head, the possibility that they won't be there when I go to look. As I swiftly past the slaves and guards to enter then construction that was once Pompey's, I discovered them, all of them. I gasped a deep breath of relief, and seeing my brother alive was a great relief though oddly enough, the relief that Brutus was alive comforted me the most.

"Thank goodness," I found myself saying without thinking, catching their attention, "I thought you were all dead and thank the gods you're not."

"Comprehend, girl!" the gruff old voice of my father said from the corner of the room, seated, his leg being bandaged by a slave. I rushed over to him and wrapped by arms around him, I can't understand at all why, I just did. He flinched a little in my grasp, "What are you doing, girl? Let me go, this is weak even for a woman to do. Stop it now! I asked you here to treat my wound; they say you have a good hand for this sort of thing. Get fresh water!"

I let him go and rushed off to find some water, behind me I heard Cicero yell. I fetched the water from the caldron left alone on the fire by the soldier who fled, what few remained were far away from me and the fire. I returned to the room and found them still arguing. I handed the water to the slave and between us we cleaned my father's wound. It wasn't a deep cut, but it looked painful, but father in his stoic way would never admit that.

Cicero stood from his chair desperately snapping, "Our forces are outted, now what are we going to do?"

"We will fight another day, I have no doubt. But now we must look to our safety…" Scipio began.

"Our safety is nothing!" father snapped, as I moved away leaving the slave to put the fresh bandages, I decided that I should go and rip up some new piece of cloth to stop the bleeding. I had learnt after all this time during these civil wars to treat the hardest of wounds, and I was used to the ripping of cloth by this time. I was just about to go back in when I heard my father speak again: "…we are not beaten until we are dead!"

"You may do as you like," I heard Cicero reply, "As for me, I will go from here and surrender to Caesar." I felt my heart leap—Caesar would kill him, and surrender was the greatest of all Roman dishonours, how could he think of it?

As it turns out my father thought the same as he spat: "Have you no dignity? No honour?"

"Some little, I hope," Cicero retorted in his careless manner, he paused and made a great sigh, "Not so much as you, of course. But, I'm not afraid of death… I'm tired. I want to go home."

I lay my head against one of the wooden pillars, wondering what Caesar would do to him and those others who would chose to hand themselves over to Caesar. I wasn't sure whether I cared or not until someone else was ready to agree with Cicero's notion: "My feelings exactly." My head and eyes shot to attention when I heard my cousin say that, and heard my father spout out about the republic. Oh, the republic, the republic, everyone thought it was the republic that Brutus should care about when it came to politics. I knew better though… it made his mind overload, and it did so here. He stood instantly and snapped, "Do not talk to me of the republic. If I had known what _awful_ company I'd have to put up with, and what an old fool is Pompey, I would never have left Rome!"

Suddenly, I felt very angry; did I count as that awful company? Because if it did then he was accusing me of being boring; looking back on it, I feel stupid caring more about what he thought of my company then the fact that we were defeated and some people were giving up. But my father didn't… and you know something? I wanted to give up too. As I walked away from listening into what they were talking of, I felt so overwhelmingly tired. It was the same feeling that Cicero felt no doubt, the boring feeling of this senseless war. I had books at home, and people who didn't think I was boring. Oh, how dare he call me awful company! _Ecastor! _Why should I care what he thinks?

Let me stop my writing here as I await word from them all… they tell me that Caesar is slowly moving in to our camp. Those who are leaving will leave; those who surrender will surrender. Around me now, the women stick behind their men, wave tearful goodbyes, gather their children to their skirts and rush away. I sit here and await where I go… and what if father had forgotten me and fled away, leaving me to be captured? I must make a choice on whether I leave or whether I say.

…

Today, I was one of the only women left in the household. I awoke to find the place bare except for me and a few others. They sat in fear in the atrium of the house; there I discovered Lucius sitting with them, shaking in terror. He knew there was something wrong, I know he did… but he was also crying, over something that had nothing to do with the war. I looked over, searching for a face I could ask—my hearted pounded with relief—Scribonia was still there! She looked at me nervously; I knew she was going to speak: "Porcia, _mea dulcis_… I have terrible news. Bibulus is dead."

At that moment, I felt no emotion whatsoever… I was sorry that he was dead but not surprised. He was a very old man; he had been a very old man all my life and that was all he ever was to me. I was given to him when I was twelve, just a little girl. He had never been a husband, more like an adopted father… and I feel no sorrow that he is gone though I am sorry he was dead. "That's awful… how?"

Scribonia was puzzled by my relaxed nature to it but quickly knew better, Porcia didn't cry like that: "His heart went on his way here, when he found out about the defeat, his heart just gave up."

"Well, we all must die; at least he was old and had lived his life unlike his two sons," I said calmly, "Poor Bibulus… I hope his funeral was decent."

"It was, so they tell me" Scribonia replied.

"Good."

I then stood and walked outside. The clouds were falling over us; it looked as if it might snow soon. I was cold and I shivered as I wrapped my shawl around myself. I heard the footsteps on the crunching long grass. I turned my head to see Brutus and Cicero making their way over. Cicero was so short that he was almost lost in the grass, and no doubt wanted to hold on to Brutus so he wouldn't get lost. I folded my arms and waited for them to come. Once they were on the dusty path, they were much better at walking—Cicero stumbled a little as he made it to the edge of the slop but quickly rushed on after Brutus.

"Come to say goodbye?" I asked straight.

"We came to say goodbye" Cicero said catching up, "And to offer our sorrow over your loss."

"Bibulus and so forth" Brutus added in.

"We are deeply sorry" Cicero finished.

I nodded, "Thank you… but I'm quite alright, he had a long life and naturally I'm sorry he died. But I had little affection for him because we were never fully man and wife, as much as he was an adopted father."

Cicero nodded along, "Yes, well it is only natural; he was old enough to have been your grandfather."

"He was old enough to be my grandfather" Brutus pointed out.

"Quite, quite," Cicero said nodding breathlessly, "But Bibulus' death was nonetheless a great loss to the senate, and to Rome."

"He will be missed," I replied, nodding along.

"Yes" Brutus said nodded along, it seemed as if he wanted to burst into laughter at our wordless conversation. Truth was, I had told him once that when it came to Cicero, though he was a man of a thousand words I could never think of what to say to him. I fact, I ran out of things to say. Brutus decided to break the silence, "I suppose you've heard that we intend to surrender ourselves to Caesar."

"Yes, it came up" I replied casually.

"The civil war is over, and I'm willing to accept the punishment for the crime" Cicero replied nobly, "My day on this chapter of history is done…" I looked at him and Brutus, over come with a great emotion, and I had forgotten why I was angry at my cousin. Cicero interrupted my trace, "You think we're cowards, don't you?"

I focused my mind back and shook my head, breaking a small smile, "No… I think you're both the bravest of them all. It takes a brave man to go on fighting after a defeat , and it takes an even braver man to take his life once defeat his sure, but it takes an even braver man to accept defeat and face the enemy no matter what the consequence is." I walked forwards and gave Cicero a small embrace, "Good luck to you, wise Cicero."

He stumbled a little once I let him go; he truly was tired, dying to lie down: "Thank you, Porcia. You truly are the most extraordinary woman in Rome as well as the noblest."

"Thank you, Cicero" I replied with a smile, "May the gods be with you," I looked up to Brutus, "Both of you."

Cicero turned to leave, I too turned to go back into the house…but Brutus stayed put, turning back to him he called to the older man, "You go on ahead Cicero and I'll catch you up."

I turned back to face Brutus as we watched Cicero leap into the grass fields and drag his feet through them. He turned his head back to me and began talking straight away, "Your father and Scipio have fled to Africa with the remaining troops and Pompey has fled to Egypt with Cornelia and the children, you must tell Scribonia that Salvito will be here to meet her and the children shortly, they're returning to Rome… Metellus Scipio fears for Salvito's life." I could understand that… Salvito was his only son and he relied on him to keep the family in order. I nodded and promised I would do as he said, he went on: "Quintus and your brother are coming here for you."

"That's nice of them… and what about Lucius?" I asked, folding my arms, reliving the anger at being called _awful company_. "I must think of him before I think about anything else."

"That's why I'm here" Brutus said quickly.

"I thought you came here to say goodbye and to offer your fake commiserations."

"Oh, come now… you don't seriously expect me to believe that your commiserations are any more sincere then mine," he judged. He folded his arms too, as if we were two politicians having a good argument. "You have an affectionate nature Porcia but in truth you feel no emotion over this death, just pity."

"So what is that is true?" I questioned, "Bibulus never gave me reason to love him, he was a good man and I'm sorry he's dead, but I cannot mourn because there is no love to mourn for. Father taught me when I was young that love is for the weak, and that the stoics don't love."

Brutus raised his eyebrows and shook his head, "There is nothing in Zeno that says we are not allowed to love. The stoic belief preaches that we are all equal as humans, tells us to remember that those slaves are not our equal, as humans we must be good to them, to maintain our emotions and keep hold of a passions be they be love, angry or hate… but never does it say that we must not feel love, anger or hate."

"You didn't suppress your anger last night when we stated that you found the company here awful, did you?" I said, his mind realising that I had heard everything that had been said. I sighed, trying not to sound too bothered though I was, "Am I really that awful to be around? You said that you preferred my company to the others, so hate to think how awful they must have been…"

"You have it all wrong, Porcia" he replied quickly, holding out his hands defensively, "I was referring to Cicero, Cassius, Scipio, Pompey and others, not you; you're the only one who I could tolerate in this camp, if it weren't for you I'd have gone mad long ago. I swear that insult wasn't at all directed to you."

I suddenly felt so much better, it was nice to have had him defensively praise my company and I accepted it quickly, "Thank you… that's nice to know. You were the one thing keeping me sane too; I'm glad you were here, Brutus, it was nice to talk to someone with brain cells." I sighed and looked at him, "Why have you come here?"

"To ask you to surrender yourself too," he replied quickly. I felt a pang in my chest, I don't really know why. "Whatever Quintus and your brother have in their minds, your place is back in Rome; his place is back in Rome. I came here really to ask if you will surrender."

I'm ashamed to admit that I wanted to, I wanted to return to Rome and do the normal things again… but I'd he going against my own father, he would never forgive me if I returned to Rome. I took his hands and said, "I'm needed here, father would be ashamed if I returned to Rome, gave in to Caesar. I can abandon my father…" I paused, "But I agree that Lucius' place is in Rome, which is why I will leave him with Scribonia since she is returning to Rome also."

He nodded, still holding my hands, rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles, "I still think your place is in Rome with the rest of your family…"

"Is that really why you think I should go back?" I asked curiously, "Because you think I belong in Rome with the rest of the women? Or is there another reason?"

He sighed, "I just think that staying here will do you no good, your father is selfish to make you think that you ought to stay. I think you should go home."

I moved forwards and hugged him, feeling tears well up in my eyes and course down my cheeks, "I'll miss you too… but it's something I have to do. I can't just go back to Rome and face the gloating faces of Atia and the others back in Rome. I know it will be worse once my father is defeated but at least I won't return to Rome feeling like I've abandoned him," still holding on to him tight and paused, something inside me was really hurting, "But I will miss you, and I hope that the trails of staying out here won't will me."

Why does it hurt so much to part with him of all people? I dare say that I am fonder of him then I am of other people, I always have been. Ever since I was very young, I never felt anyone could understand how alone and vulnerable I felt, except him. Now I feel completely lonely, and regret that I have stayed here, fleeing with just my brother and that awful Quintus Pompey. I let Lucius return with Scribonia, and Marcia has also given up and returned home; like Brutus she asked me to come to but once again I refused. It wasn't really that I didn't want to… it was just that I didn't want to, I desperately wanted to go home to Rome with Brutus, Cicero, Cassius, Scribonia and the others, but my duty to my father is greater then my own desires, and my desires I am ashamed to admit to, even on this page. I wish I could find the courage to write how I truly felt about be duty.

I don't think I have to write down anyway, whom ever reads this will know exactly how I feel and what I can't bring myself to write.

…

-

-

-

* * *

_Well, that's the end of part 1. Now I'm off to revise for this big exam week I have… Part 2 will start soon and Vorenus and Pullo are coming in._


	8. 2: Perdo tactus

_Since I'm feeling generous, I decided to give you this chapter before I go back to college next week. Thank me because I finished this at 02:49 am, in the UK. Now, as I said in the last chapter, the first person viewing is ended and now we are entering part II where it is third person and everyone is in it. Porcia is still the lead character though, don't worry._

_Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome_

* * *

... 

…

It was the first time in a long while that Titus Pullo felt as if he were the smarter of the two. As they left Caesar's tent, Pullo and his commanding officer Lucius Vorenus, were lucky that they hadn't been crucified for that they did. After having survived the storm that drowned an army, washed up on a barren Greek island, rode a dead comrade to the shores and encountered Pompey Magnus, his wife Cornelia and their two little children Gnaeus and Pompeia, on a beach, the right thing to do would have been to arrest him and take him back to Caesar's camp. Following rescuing the man from being murdered for what they had, things seemed to be going that way. However, Vorenus had let his love for the republic and the broken spirit of Pompey get to his sense and the following, Pullo and Vorenus set off back to Caesar's camp—without Pompey Magnus.

"_Quam incuriosus!" _Pullo exclaimed as they trod along, "Mark Antony is right; Caesar did let you off too lightly!" he whined, in the very same manner that he had when they left that camp and had let Pompey go, "If I were you and you were me, I would have listened to me and arrested Pompey; we had him!"

"Pullo" Vorenus began commandingly, "If I were you and you were me, we still would have left without Pompey Magnus because you wanted to arrest him and I chose not to, if you were to listen to me then, then you would have left Pompey on the beach nonetheless."

Pullo raised his hand to try and object, but catching the meaning of his words, the hand dropped and he re-phrased it, "Okay… if you were anything like me, we would have got into Caesar's good books and have been rewarded for bringing him back alive."

"Stop whining!" Vorenus commanded again, Pullo halting to attention since they were re-entering the camp and the other soldiers were watching. "Remember that I am not like you, and you are not like me, and while under the standard you follow my commands; we are not at home in the Aventine; we are at war in Greece."

As the prefect stalked off, Pullo was left standing in the mud with several other soldiers staring at them, gullible and confused. At home, Pullo and Vorenus were like brothers, and although the habit had sunk in, it was always hard for Pullo not to treat him casually, even under the standard. He sighed, "Yeah… and because of you we're probably still at war!"

-

Vorenus could not take full responsibility for the continuing of the civil wars after having left Pompey Magnus go; not only had Cato and Scipio fled to Africa to raise money for another attack on Caesar, talking with them the remaining of Pompey's armies, but Quintus Pompey was also intending to stir up trouble in the other provinces, Hispaina was his first target, and to also cause danger in Greece as to slow down Caesar chasing after the army. With Quintus were several unwilling soldiers, a more sober and shy Marcus Porcius Cato the Younger, or the even younger given one of the many nicknames acquired by Cato the Philosopher. Scipio Salvito, in opposition to his father's demands, agreed to the assault on Caesar's schedules—anything to aid his father. He had begged his beloved wife, the beautiful but sharp tongued Scribonia, to return to Rome but she refused sending only her children back to Rome, stating that her place with him.

The last member of their party was also a woman, the sister of the even younger Cato, daughter of the philosopher and cousin of one of those who had given up and returned Rome. Porcia Catonis, the daughter of Marcus Porcius Cato, out of her duty to her father had ignored her overwhelming desire to return to Rome, and instead agreed to stay with her brother, tracking through the provinces, watching the men as they caused trouble. Naturally pale in complexion, the outdoor, countryside air hadn't made her skin any darker; it was always as white as snow, coloured only by naturally pink cheeks, her long, sleek, curly dark auburn hair was reduced to a mass of tangles, and her eyes were weak and tired from her travelling—though she would never admit it to her friends and family, she was losing faith in her father, and was beginning to think that what her cousin Brutus had said was right; her father was selfish to make her feel as if she had to say when it wasn't a woman's place. She had once again been left in the hands of her father, now that her old man husband Bibulus was dead; she had become the virgin widow when she was still very young.

Normally such an alert and hard-thinking Roman matron, or rather maid, she was distracted by her daydreaming and her unwillingness to go on. Brought up a stoic, she had always been led to believe that one should use reason before passion, that one should acknowledge the existence of all human beings and be good to all family members, to never judge people on their looks and to love all of them for being good people… but for some reason, she was beginning to question her life's beliefs, the stoic trait. Though she wouldn't admit to anyone why exactly she was questioning her life style, she coated whatever it was by asking Scribonia over and over what she thought of it.

"Well," Scribonia said, flicking back her hair trying not to get annoyed at being asked yet another question, "I don't know—I always thought that stoics were rather cold and emotionless, until you started pointing out all its areas of belief and asked me whether or not it was right to believe them…"

"Exactly," Porcia began, "It is a belief that nearly all people hold about stoics, but I don't come across emotionless with my ideas of love and people, do I?"

"No, well, yes but…" Scribonia said rubbing her head, wanting to sleep herself over these questions, "Okay, on the one hand you seem like a really nice person with the complete belief that all good people are beautiful and therefore you shouldn't judge on looks you should get to know them and whatnot… but I think that might leave you naïve. I mean, you're very beautiful yourself; people might seem nice when really they're just after your looks… so maybe. Also, your whole reason before passion seems a bit hard going, because, what if you truly believe something is right but you question your belief because it is unreasonable, it restricts you. The same with love, if you aren't allowed to fall in love then you're leading a very lonely life… everyone should be allowed to love."

Porcia shifted a little bit, she tended to do that a lot nowadays when people spoke of single loves, adoring one above all others and so fourth. Brutus had said that to love someone wasn't against the stoic rules, but then why did her father teach her that love if for the weak and stoics couldn't do it. "I suppose that it is really my father, who refuses to be love by anyone, or to love himself."

Scribonia nodded, "I find that older people have a really have a low look on love and acting on love. I mean, they married us to old men that we could never love and expect us to reproduce… If they have no sons then that's bad luck for them because they didn't get married earlier. My first husband was twice my age, and though I'm glad I had our son, I much prefer Salvito who is my own age."

"Marriage is not to take account of our feelings, Scribonia," Porcia replied solemnly, playing with her hair. "That you like Salvito and are married to a man closer to you in age is lucky, but marriages are political alliances for the parents of the two people, not them. I married Bibulus when I was twelve years old, I have no children from him and I am glad."

"Why?" Scribonia asked.

"I don't know, I'm just happier being his Lucius' stepmother," Porcia replied, shrugging her shoulders and sighing, thinking about nothing but _that_ feeling at the bottom of her heart, wondering what on earth it could be. She laughed for no reason, as if to cover up these feelings breaking loose, "And I'll probably die childless. I'll never marry again."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do, who would want to marry me now?" Porcia asked, raising her eyebrows, "The daughter of the man who wouldn't give up to Caesar?"

"If your father wins, the whole of Rome will beg to be married to you," Scribonia pointed out.

"And if he loses I will be left penniless and without anywhere to go. He has taken what little money and belongings he had left that Caesar didn't take for his profit, or the auction off for high prices, and that money included what is left of my dowry," seeing Scribonia's eyes widen, Porcia laughed again and nodded, "It is true—I am well and truly broke; when father dies, I will have nothing left except the clothes on my back."

"It would never come to that," Scribonia assured her, "If your father died Brutus would become your head of household, and he wouldn't let you be without anything."

Porcia's heart went pang, "Don't speak of my father dying, please!"

Scribonia held up her hands and smiled, "I'm sorry, it just slipped. So what exactly is Caesar doing with this money?"

"It's going towards the funding of _Basilica Julia_," she replied, sighing angrily, "My father and our family have been using that money to restore the _Basilica Porcia_, built by my great-great-grandfather, the great censor, Cato. Why should Porcii money go towards Julii buildings—he has been using the spoils of the Gallic Wars for all these years to build it, and suddenly he decides to use what he managed to steal of my father's to pay for it. He has a nerve… In his last letter, father told us that he has put a little bit of money aside so that we might restore our family's basilica."

Scribonia nodded, "I agree, it is most disrespectful! The Basilica Porcia is the oldest in Rome, and it was because of that damned fire that it burnt down… Publius Clodius Pulcher was always bad luck, if you ask me!"

Porcia shook her head and raised her fingers to her lips, "Remember that he is the brother of my Cousin Brutus' wife, Claudia."

"So?" Scribonia queried, "She's not here to hear what I said, why should I keep what I think to myself if she isn't going to get hurt from hearing it?"

"I was thinking more of Brutus…" Porcia said, quietly as her mind began to trace off again. She was quickly brought back by Scribonia's cheerful laughter.

"Why should _he_ care?" she asked plainly, "I'm surprised that he and Claudia aren't divorced yet."

Porcia upturned her amber eyes to look at Scribonia, "Why do you say that?"

"Well, they have been married for six years, they hardly talk, she's always on the edge, they have hardly any contact and when they do it didn't do much for them; it is widely rumoured that Claudia is barren…" Porcia stopped listening after that. An odd sensation passed through her at that moment. Two things happened in those seconds; one is that she remembered Claudia's words… _"It's so shameful… My role as a wife is a failure in other areas… I dare not say them…"_ and finally Porcia realised that this was the reason why Claudia was so upset that day, why things were bad for her. And yet, the other emotion was strange, it questioned angrily then why Brutus hadn't divorced Claudia? Is it possible that he was truly affectionate to Claudia; that he would refuse to part with her?

"Why should I care?" Porcia found herself saying loud.

"Sorry?" Scribonia asked, looking rather puzzled.

Porcia looked over to her friend and shook her head; confused at herself also, she smiled: "I meant; what did you say?"

"I was just saying that Claudia was always looking sorrowfully at my Marcellinus and my Cornelius, as if she would never have one," Scribonia said, looking curiously at Porcia. "I said to her, Porcia doesn't have any children either… but said that you were young and could still have children, whereas she would be older sooner and would never have children. It was quite sad."

Porcia nodded, "Sounds like… but then; you know my reasons for not having children, don't you?"

Scribonia raised an eyebrow, "No, why? Can't you have children?"

Porcia found herself going through the same conversation she had several months ago with Cornelia, Scribonia's sister-in-law. She had thought that Cornelia would have let it slip to her close friend but clearly she hadn't; she now knew that Cornelia was a good friend, and she wished to make one of Scribonia. Though younger and more foolish, Scribonia was a trustworthy woman, and even if she was somewhat younger then Porcia by one or two years, she knew she wouldn't laugh at what she had to say.

"It's not that I can't have children, it's that no one has yet tried," Porcia explained quite calmly, without any embarrassment, "I'm a virgin."

Scribonia nodded, "I thought as much anyway."

-

Back in Rome, all heard of the men pardoned by Caesar, some they were surprised about and others they were interested about. The men who were publicly pardoned by Gaius Julius Caesar, imperator of the Gallic 13th legion, descendent of Venus and Anchises… blah… blah… blah… were Publius Servilius Casca, Marcus Tullius Cicero, Gaius Cassius Longinius and _Marcus Junius Brutus_. Everyone, even the newsreader, seemed to take note of that name. After all, the name of Brutus was a great name, not only was it the name of that bookish youth but the name of generations of Brutus dating back to the father of the republic and of his country, Lucius Junius Brutus. It gave the people of Rome great interest to hear that great man's descendant be pardoned by a dictator. It almost made Caesar look like a king…

Of course, the plebeians always liked a good scandal and since Caesar didn't have his snobbish, bitch mistress Servilia to please any more, it made all wonder just why on earth would he pardon Brutus who was a name that many republican patricians would gather around. Of course, seeing as the affair with Servilia was a mighty scandal that had been going on for years before it cut loose and Calpurnia made Caesar finish it with her before he left for the wars…

"_Now that you mention it they do have very similar eyes, don't they?" one whispered._

"_One of his sisters is a dead ringer for Caesar!" another says. _

"_Which one?" the first asks._

"_The youngest one, the third daughter, she and her brother look like each other but neither look like their fathers, if you ask me," uttered a third person._

"_Didn't his mother get divorced by her second husband, the father of that Junia Tertia and stepfather of Brutus, because he found out and her and Caesar?" the wife of the second one speak asked._

"_Yes, my dove" the second replied. _

"_We wrote it on the walls of the granary…" the first speak said, bringing a crowd around him now, "But I painted it off when Publius Clodius got it off with his sister Clodia—oh what a pair! Illegitimate children, bonking their sisters and they've even begun marrying their cousins… Inbred, snobbish, incestuous and stuck-up patricians! And they call us a disgrace!"_

"_Yeah, without us they'd starve inside a week!" the third perked up._

"_I hope Brutus is Caesar's son…" the wife of the second said, "That would be a nasty blow for the Junii family now, wouldn't it?"_

The blow for Junii at this moment wasn't a question of Brutus' paternity but his mother's question of why her son had dared to come back alive after that defeat. The other day when they had been reunited, he could tell straight off that his mother was slightly different, but her coldness and distance had made him feel all the more worthless. The worst of it was that he wasn't ashamed that he had accepted Caesar's kindness… because of what Porcia had said about surrender before he left her at that house in the middle of that field, he suddenly felt as if he had done the brave thing them Pompey who fled to Egypt and the smarter thing that Uncle Cato who had rushed off to Africa with the armies…

Back in Rome, he found himself completely alone, confronted by the moving tongues of the plebeians, trying to work out why Brutus was pardoned and not made an example of. They said that he was Caesar's son! Although Caesar was the only father Brutus had ever known, someone who been there all his life and someone who he truly did care for and love, and who clearly returned that love, the idea that he was illegitimate son of Caesar was humiliating. His sisters got an ear full of it too, and while Prima and Secunda were safely living in their households with their husbands, Tertia was stuck in the house awaiting a husband to come and get her. Too much had changed in Rome since he had left; his sisters were married and had their own lives, Tertia was sulking about also getting married, his wife Claudia was more annoying then he remembered her and even his mother was disappointed in him and wished he had killed himself when they lost the battle.

Although Brutus didn't want to admit it at first, he found himself missing Porcia, and how they'd sit in that god awful house, and they'd talk about whatever came to mind. He had told her things he would never have told anyone else, but that was because she was so easy to speak to. She never judged anyone on first sight, or judged anything you said with lazy arguments based on her own passions; she always tried to be reasonable. She had come a long way from that little seven-year-old who his mother used to punish by jamming her into a cupboard; that cried and screamed so much from the trauma that he had to use tactics to calm her down. She had grown up even more since she was that poor innocent twelve-year-old girl, flung into politics by being married to a man old enough to be her grandfather, who didn't have a clue about life other then what she had read in books. Brutus hated to admit it, but there was still certain innocence about his young cousin that wasn't fully routed back to her virginity; it was just something in her that showed she hadn't lived a full life yet outside a library. At least she wasn't that twelve-year-old anymore, which Cato had given away so young, so quickly. It had surprised him at the time how many suitors she had when she was only twelve, but not as much as when Uncle Cato had firstly offered her to him before he even considered the others.

When Cato had offered her to him, he was taken by surprise but he knew exactly why. He was the heir of Uncle Caepio's riches, and was he to marry Uncle Cato's daughter, then their family would keep the money in the family. At the time, Brutus had naturally declined saying that he didn't want to marry and would rather expand his knowledge and so fourth… though the reason was because he didn't think it was morally right to marry a twelve-year-old girl. Of course, eventually Porcia married Bibulus, Brutus went away with Cato to Cyprus, five years went by, they came back and things had changed then as they had now. His sisters had grown up as well as Porcia, and they were no longer children but the closest things to women. It was then that Brutus relented to both his mother and Cato, and married to first woman who seemed proper, hence his marriage to Claudia.

Claudia didn't seem to care that he was back from the civil wars, after a rather awkward embrace, which admittedly was more welcoming then what his mother had given him, she just disappeared into the household and he hadn't seen her in two days now. They just didn't cross paths. So Brutus had to pass his time alone, not that he wanted to spend it with his nagging mother Servilia or his boring wife Claudia, and did it by writing bad poetry on his many sleepless nights—he was tormented constantly by everything that had happened and this raging guilt he had, not only over Caesar but mainly over his cousin… He kept telling himself that he should have convinced her to come home, surely he could have it he had kept asking her rather then just giving up the way he did. So dreadfully lonely for company after short time, Brutus decided to agree to meet with Cicero. Pompous and boring he could be when he talked to long, he was more interesting then sitting around feeling sorry for himself.

-

"Pullo," Vorenus yelled, giving his comrade a small kick to get him to wake up. Pullo just waved his hand at his face, muttering insults to the intruder of his dreaming. Vorenus gave him another irritated kick, "Pullo, wake up!"

Pullo opened his eyes, "Lucius Vorenus, sir."

"Get up, we're on the move in the morning," Vorneus said quickly before striding out. Pullo pulled on clothes and rushed after his 'friend' quickly.

"Where are we going?" he asked like a child.

"Egypt" Vorenus replied plainly. "In pursuit of Pompey Magnus; get ready and assemble quickly with the others."

"We're going to Egypt?" Pullo exclaimed in interest and strange excitement, "You mean Gyppo land? With the inbred kings and the gods that look like a practical joke done by a farmer and a doctor with the body of a slave and the head of a dog?"

"Speak with more respect, you're under the standard," Vorenus replied.

"Thank you for reminding me, sir."

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_Thank you for reading, now please review it._


	9. 2: Obfirmo ianua

_Okay, I'm updating for all of you now. It's been hard getting this chapter done, and I promise that Vorenus and Pullo will cross paths with lady virtue next chapter. I've finally got the build up done, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. I have to admit though... it's a lot more about what is going on in Rome in this chapter then Porcia... but anyway, enjoy!_

_Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome_

_EDIT: If you are reading this, and you don't remember it from your first viewing of this chapter, it means you need to read it again._

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In Rome, the people await Caesar's return with great excitement but knowing that he wouldn't return until Cato was defeated, they just took pleasure in hearing the dark rumours going on in Egypt between Cleopatra and Caesar. There had been talks of a disgusting affair, which was driving poor dear Calpurnia mad at home, and since Caesar managed to hold Rome with a single legion, Antony had taken great pleasure in letting Cicero know that his tongue was not to be waggled too much or else it would be out. Although it had been an unnerving sight to watch, Brutus had still watched it in amusement; although Cicero was his friend, he did think that Cicero changed sides too often. He had no hard policies. Still, that was better then Brutus who felt he didn't have any… oh true, he was a Brutus, and all the Junii Brutii going back to the days of Lucius Junius Brutus have had only one policy: that the republic was perfect and must be protected and maintained at all costs. Those who didn't agree with this fall-proof policy were simply driven out of the city, like the old king and his monster son were by Lucius.

But Marcus Junius Brutus didn't have a tyrant to drive out of the city, well, there was Antony but he was just being a cocky bastard as usual, so he took his time reading and reading and writing and attending the senate just so his face would be seen by those who still idolised his uncle in Rome. Cicero would always insist on sitting next to him and spitting his speeches of virtue down his ear about Cato and how wonderful his strength was… but Brutus didn't care about that. What time he did worry about his family, he was worrying over his mother's depression which had even led her to seducing young girls, most notably Octavia—though he kept his mouth shut for fear that she might turn the cold words on him again.

The rest of the time he was worried about his cousin Porcia, who was missing somewhere in the provinces with the Lady Scribonia and Quintus' rabble. How could Cato have allowed his son to leave Porcia alone with that little mad man and his bandit friends, especially since news reached Rome of Pompey's death following Caesar's returning the man's ashes to the city, Quintus had allegedly made many enemies with local raiders in the countryside of Hispania. These raiders had once been pirates, but after Pompey destroyed the Illyrian pirates, they had spread out into Roman provinces causing trouble and havoc, as well as still causing the odd boat to sink. Now Quintus had declared mob war on them, it was only natural to threat for his dear cousin's safety. Brutus was furious that they had yet allowed her to return to Rome; surely by now she would want to.

One day, while in the senate with Cicero talking about the latest news as they heard it broadcasted from outside in the street, Antony had suddenly appeared to tell them the great news of Caesar's victory in Egypt. He had warned Cicero that his "soft pink hands" were doomed if he spoke of treachery one last time and left in a fit of laughter. Just as he left, Cassius suddenly came in with his stalking way towards them. Cicero looked up from rubbing his hands in pain while Brutus stood up straight, not too pleased at this sudden appearance: "Cassius, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I was walking in the forum and I saw you come in here, and I thought that this would be a good time to talk to you," he said, making his way up the stairs towards Brutus, passing Cicero by without care and giving Brutus one of his hand shakes. Brutus glanced over to Cicero who pulled himself up from Antony's attack and looked towards them. Cassius went on, ignoring Cicero, "I have something I must ask of you, Brutus."

"Do you?" Brutus said with obviously put on interest. He sat down again as Cassius sat beside him. Brutus looked at Cassius, still keeping his distance as far as possible given that they were sitting next to each other, "So what is it that you seek be out for Cassius?"

Cassius leaned forwards, linking his hands and explained his thoughts: "As you know, Brutus, my wife died a few years ago in childbed not long before the civil wars started."

"I recall it well," Brutus replied, remembering that the birth of Cassius' only child, Cassia Longina, had been in the same year that Brutus had married Claudia. "She was a good woman, and I feel it a pity she died when little Cassia was so young."

"I was thinking about it a lot recently," Cassius explained, obvious trying to make a point some time soon, "And I think it is time I re-married—after all, I'm not getting any younger, am I? There isn't much time left for me at forty years of age—""

Brutus smirked, "When I met you, you were pushing forty—for the last five years you've been towing it!"

Cassius glared at Brutus, willing him to stop laughing, he went on nonetheless, "And I need a mother to look after Cassia for me, after all she's still young and coming to the age when she needs a mother. I also need a son, to carry on my family line."

"Of course," Brutus replied.

"I'll come straight to the point," Cassius said plainly, "I want to marry Junia Tertia."

Brutus suddenly sat straight, "Junia Tertia, as in my little sister Tertulla?"

"Yes," he replied quickly, "Cato promised her to me, and while he is in Africa you call the shots over the family, so I'll ask you again, may I marry Tertia?"

Brutus was surprised, "She's only eighteen!"

"Cato said I could marry her when she was sixteen," Cassius argued, "Besides, your cousin Porcia married old Bibulus when she was only twelve!"

Seeing as he had no reason to argue with Cato, he nodded his head, "Fine, fine… I'll ask my mother."

"Gods beneath us, Brutus," Cassius yelled in annoyance, "You're twenty-nine-years old; you can make the choices without asking Servilia. You are the head of the family, not her. Now, may I marry your sister or not?"

"Yes!" Brutus snapped in reply, "What I meant is I'll ask her to deal with the wedding—is that alright with you?"

"Fine," Cassius said firmly, sitting quietly for a while before finally changing the subject. "How is Claudia?"

"Claudia?"

"Your wife, remember?"

Brutus rolled his eyes, "I know who you meant, I just wondered why you were asking."

"Out of politeness" Cassius replied, "So how is she?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I haven't seen her today."

"You haven't seen her today?"

"No."

"No?"

Brutus stopped and looked at Cassius for a moment before going on, "Is there an echo in here? No, I don't know. We are married but we hardly speak; we are married in name only."

Cassius laughed, "Well if things are that dull, why don't you divorce her? Divorce her and remarry to a nicer woman who you could speak to?"

"Divorce her? And deal with her mad father and greedy brother?" Brutus said with a laugh, "You're kidding aren't you? They'd ruin me if I couldn't give a reason."

"Say she's barren," Cassius suggested, "You haven't got any children."

Everyone wondered why Brutus' marriage with Claudia still lacked issue. All believed that Claudia must have been barren. However Brutus had received a troubling letter from his dying and senile father-in-law, Appius Claudius Pulcher, the brother of the infamous Clodia and Publius Clodius Pulcher, complaining that Claudia had claimed that he never shared her bed. Truth was, although she was very attractive, Brutus found no pleasure in being her husband and only kept her to please his mother and keep the Claudii of his back (which was hard when their Uncle Livius was a Claudii by birth.)

"It's not worth the trouble," Brutus finally said, "My Uncle Livius would never forgive me for divorcing his cousin and there are no women in Rome that I want to marry."

"No, not in Rome," Cassius said in a rather annoyed voice.

"What does that mean?"

Cassius leaned back and looked away, smirking a little, "I just assumed that you are still love sick over Porcia Catonis, am I right?"

Brutus' eyes widened and he defensively stared at Cassius, "What do you mean?"

"She was the only one who you spoke to when we were still in the wars, you visited her in her room every evening, I think even Cato knew that you two were lovers," Cassius replied, remembering all he had learned, heard and seen at the camp.

"We were not—"" Brutus began with a raised voice, before he knew better and lowered his voice, "We were not lovers!"

Cassius raised his eyebrows, "No?"

"No, we just talked" he replied, looking back over what he would talk about with her, "We'd just talk about what was happening in the warm our past, our fears, our hopes, what we thought and what we hoped would happen in the future. We were not lovers, Porcia would never been unfaithful to a husband," he insisted with some strange difficulty, "Even if it was Bibulus."

"Well, she sort of was being unfaithful to Bibulus" Cassius said, and before Brutus could protest, he went on, "You talked to her about your hopes, your beliefs, what you want for the future, and she with you—what was wrong with talking to Bibulus? And what was wrong with talking to Claudia?"

"They weren't there!" Brutus protested,

"So?" Cassius asked, "You haven't spoken to Claudia here in Rome, why would it be any different in the civil war? And Porcia was anything but vexed by Bibulus' death."

"You're wrong!" Brutus snapped, beginning to lose his temper, "That isn't the same as being unfaithful or being lovers!"

"I'm afraid I must infer—"" Brutus and Cassius looked over to see Cicero, who was still there listening to the conversation, quite recovered from Antony's attack on him. He made his way up towards them as he spoke, "It is true that you may not have been lovers in the term that it is normally associated, but not every man's mistress is for pleasures of flesh. The most virtuous man and woman in Rome can be unfaithful to their spouses just by talking. Carnal knowledge aside, dear Brutus, you must remember that it is possible to make love through words."

…

Porcia stepped out of the small house and took in the new morning with welcome joy. For a while the wealth had been wet and humid, her hair had grown to be twice as long and big as it had been eight months since they were set up there. Alone with only Scribonia and her body slave Sylvia, Porcia was surrounded by Quintus Pompey's naval scum who were behaving like pirates as they raided ships on their way to Africa or stole for Scipio and Cato's purpose. Porcia knew her father would not approve, but Caesar was doing just as dirty tricks in order to obtain goods. Her brother Marcus and Scribonia's husband Salvito, had fled to Africa to aid their fathers, leaving Scribonia and Porcia protected by slaves, no doubt left because they didn't trust Quintus but because they couldn't take the two ladies with them.

It was nice to get fresh air after being cooped up in the house for so long… But that peace was short lived when, she as she had closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air… a man, cover in blood and scars and cuts loomed forwards from behind the trees and staggered into the open between Porcia and the rest of the house. As he moaned like a great titan Porcia stumbled backwards, taken at surprise by this bloody man crawling across the dusty floor. He was reaching out to her imploringly; his hand drenched in blood, grabbing hold of her dirty, messy old dress while mumbling unintelligible words. Porcia did something that surprised her; she screamed and dressed to pull herself free from this man. He face fell down in the dust, his hand opening and shutting like a _cancer _claw, and all Porcia could do is watch for a few seconds. Finally, she screamed into the house for Scribonia and Sylvia to come… what she got, was Sylvia, Scribonia, that awful Quintus, along with a couple of his bandit friends.

Porcia looked in horror as Quintus bent over the bloody man to drag him into the house. Quintus was already dirty from not taking a bath for so long. As Quintus attempted to move the man towards the door Porcia found herself snapping at the shock; "Who is this man? What happened to him?"

"Move, help me get him into the house, you nursed at my father's camp, didn't you?!" he ordered.

"I don't want people dying in the house!" Porcia snapped back, backing away from the red faced figure, failing to be dragged from the dirt by Quintus. He was so weak and small, as well as disgusting. "Who is he?"

Quintus glared at her, "Just do as I say you haughty, stoic, patrician bitch!"

Unable to control herself, she hit Quintus in the face, knocking him to the ground, crushed underneath the dying man. Porcia turned to Scribonia and Sylvia, "Help me pull him up!" she moved to aid the bloody man while, stupidly, the lady and the slave aided Quintus, "Not that cut-off ape, I mean the dying man!" Porcia said, grabbing hold of the man's arms. Scribonia aided Porcia is pulling him off Quintus, left groaning over a bloody nose—Porcia was quite vexed that she hadn't broken it—and with Sylvia's help, the three women aided the man into the house while the two thugs aided Quintus from the ground.

He held his nose and threw his head back to stop the bleeding while whining, "That bitch! Ever since my father died and her brother and Salvito left she's had the run of this house; that haughty, patrician, Catonian bitch daughter of Cato!"

Porcia found her dress stained in blood as Sylvia and Scribonia laid the man flat on a table, as he moans and screamed at his wounds and cuts. The smell was sweet in Porcia's nose, as she ordered Sylvia to go and fetch some warm water off the fire—she knew it was that as she had been heating it so that she and Scribonia might clean their faces and hair properly; it had been a few weeks since they had, and eternity for any Roman—and a clean rag so that she might cleanse the wounds.

As Quintus stumbled into the house he saw the man on the table and shook his head, "No, no, not on _my_ table, woman!"

"Put some more water on the fire, Sylvia!" Porcia commanded her slave, ignoring Quintus.

"He'll get blood all over it!" he went on.

"That's why I have called for the water…" Quintus stamped his feet and went to sit in a chair, watching as the ladies attended to the man. He glared at Porcia, as she attempted to ignore him. Failing that, she turned to look at Quintus and sighed, "So who is this man? What happened?"

"He's one of my men," Quintus explained, "I sent him to spy on some bandits who have been causing trouble for my men not far from here. They must have caught him and attacked him, he's lucky to be alive."

"Bandits…" Scribonia cried in surprise, "Where exactly are they?"

"About five miles from here…"

"Five miles?" both Porcia and Scribonia said in chorus.

"I have it under control!" Quintus protested.

"Err… No, you clearly have not got it under control!" Porcia said sarcastically and furiously, raising the bloody man's arm in doing so. "I think we should move away from here, it's far too dangerous!"

"It's not!"

"It is…" Scribonia said, joining in the argument.

"It isn't!"

"Fine, it isn't" Porcia replied in frustration, "Be it on your own head if you're wrong!"

…

Vorneus and Pullo had learnt many valuable lessons from their travels with the thirteenth legion all these years, to Gaul, to Britain, to Greece, to Spain, to Egypt, each time they uncovered new things and more beauties of the world. Coming back from their trip to Egypt, they all agreed that it had been an eventful ten months. Caesar had fathered a child, or so he thought as Vorenus had given Pullo that sly look while he cheered for the male child, Vorenus and Pullo had rescued a Gyppo queen and Pullo had give her the night of her life. They had learnt, done and seen many great things, but Pullo was happy to be leaving. Contrary to how he felt when he went, he found the food horrible, the heat maddening and the Egyptian people were rude and disrespectful to Romans!

"We take their grain and invade their land demanding money," Vorenus stated to Pullo when he brought up the subject.

"Hey, if the Gyppo gods are as all so powerful then why don't they try to get rid of us?" Pullo queried. "Ha! Mucked up found is that place now, eh? If it was a great country then their gods must be getting old and senile."

"You're lucky that we are no long in Egypt! Vorenus said in his sombre voice, "If we were those old gods might have put a curse on this legion."

"I'm not scared of the Gyppo gods; Titus Pullo isn't scared of some bastard with a dog's head, or a cat's head, or any head for that matter… that's what I say, I told you that, didn't I?" Pullo questioned.

"Yes, you did," Vorenus replied, "I wish you would show more respect to the gods, the goddess Isis comes from Egypt and we worship her in Rome."

"Isis?" Pullo questioned, "She's a disgusting god, the things that the temple allow women to do… I think women should stick to Venus, Juno and Diana, they are Romanised gods… I don't trust those newly introduced gods. I think gods should have to be in Roman society for a while before we can trust them."

Vorenus laughed out loud at Pullo's suggestion, "What? You think they should 'gain citizenship' in Rome?"

"Yeah… I do!"

Vorenus laughed mockingly again, leaving Pullo staring in wonder at what was so silly about his suggestion. "They will punish us for being disrespectful."

"So? We just get our mighty Jupiter to flatten them; he's a big god, isn't he?" Pullo joked, he let out one of his 'ha' and nodded in agreement with his statement, "Egyptian gods wouldn't know what hit them."

"Pullo" Vorenus said in his unemotional, cheerless yet non-offending voice, "Shut up, and don't speak again until we get to the sea. We rest there before we head to Africa, you can gap all you want then."

Pullo nodded, "I look forward to that, Lucius Vorenus sir."

…

The bleeding man died not long after he arrived down the dusty road despite the treatment the two ladies gave him. They burnt him the way plebeians would have done it, dragged him into the dusty courtyard and set him alightly. The smell was wicked and made Porcia feel sick as she watched. Over the pyre, Quintus vowed revenge on the bandits saying that it was what his father would have done, but Porcia saw that it could only bring about doom. They were once pirates, they had nothing but hate for Pompey's son. After Quintus left with his armed gang to attack them directly, Porcia rushed about he household, packing away all her things, as too was Sylvia, following her mistress around like a lost puppy. Scribonia came across them, clueless to why Porcia was behaving this was, Scribonia turned to her and asked "What on earth are you doing?"

"We have to get away from this house!" Porcia replied quickly.

"Why?"

"I just have an awful feeling that something terrible is going to happen," she replied.

"Like what?"

Porcia stopped and turned to Scribonia, placing her hands on both shoulders, "Just get dressed and get ready to leave, we have to just get away from this house. I know that Quintus is going to mess this revenge up and we are going to suffer for it."

"How can you be so sure?"

Suddenly, breaking a few moments of silence where Porcia said nothing, there was a great crash from down stairs that caught all of their attentions. A cold pang hit Porcia heart, but she stood tall, "Because these sorts of things can only ever happen to me," she said finally. As the crashes came closer, she pulled Sylvia and Scribonia into the corner of the room behind the door, and they waited as the crashed and loud footsteps drew closer, and grew louder.

…

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_Well, that's another chapter done... As you can guess, we are going to have a rescue mission next chapter. Until then, please review this and if you are a member of or leave an e-mail, I promise I will reply to you. I've taken to replying now._


	10. 2: Eripio vir

_**Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome**_

_**Now, I believe there were requests for some more scenes between Brutus and Porcia later on, and I am happy to provide that since they are being reunited in the chapter after this one. Please let me know what you would like to see come out of it. Meanwhile, enjoy Pullo and Vorenus' clash with Porcia.**_

_**I swore to myself that I would get this done for you all, my lovely people, and here it is! And it is a nice long chapter, for your pleasure.**_

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As the crashes of elephant feet stumbled towards the door, Porcia, Scribonia and Sylvia all held their breaths and waited. As soon as the door opened, without a moments hesitation, Porcia kicked the door shut as it opened, slamming the wooden door in the attacker's face. The groan of pain burst out of the man's mouth as he stumbled backwards from the sudden assault. Porcia and Scribonia dashed out from behind the door, while Sylvia huddled to the side in horror. Porcia grabbed a mental dish used to burn candles in. The candle was still lit and the wax still hot. As the bandit stood and took notice of the three ladies, she threw the wax dish at the face of her attacker, and without giving a moment's time to think or look, Porcia and Scribonia dragged the slave to her feet and rushed past the blinded man, rolling on the floor in pain.

The lower floor was a mess with tables turned upside down, plates smashed and crashed on the table, the boiling water on the floor, the grain, and the other food and fuel goods being carried off in twos by several other bandit goons. There were three in sight, but Porcia knew there were more from the sounds of crashing in the back room, searching for valuables no doubt. Scribonia and Sylvia grabbed hold of Porcia, hugging her arms, looking for support as one of the bandits dropped the sack and it spilled out grain rain.

"What are you doing here?" Scribonia asked without thinking, realising straight away that it was a very stupid thing to say, she straight away changed her question, "Why are you here?"

"Who are you women? We're taking back what is rightfully ours," said a filthy and revolting looking man whose idea of cosmetics was to take the sap of trees and use it as a hardener for his hair. Either way, he looked greasy and revolting to a Roman eye which preached cleanness to people. These bandits spoke in Greek, so Porcia understood them enough to reply, "We're now taking control of the house and everything in it, including you."

"We're not slaves to be taken over!" Porcia snarled furiously back in Greek in her airy patrician manner; her well-spoken voice was proof enough for these barbarians that she was at the height of manners and sophistication. She took her slave and friend's hands and went on, "The lady Scribonia and I are free, I am a well-born woman of noble birth, and this other lady is my servant Sylvia; she belongs to me—I admit that we are Roman citizens—but harming us will do you no favours, and you can ask any Roman you've heard of and they will know me and testify for us."

"Romans?" another bandit said; the crashing ending in the other room, "Would that Caesar bastard know your name?"

Porcia gritted her teeth and rolled her eyes as she replied, "Most certainly, Gaius Julius Caesar happens to be my father's greatest enemy."

"Then why would me testify for you?" the ugliest, if it were possible be uglier then the first, said, no teeth in his leering smile.

"Because my cousin happens to be Caesar's most beloved friend who is as a son to him," Porcia replied with an annoyed snap, how she hated to be talked down to especially but these disgusting, dirty, pathetic outlaws who were so pitiable that they turned to picking fight on three defenceless women. It was making her blood boil in furry, "If you have no business other then to steal everything in the house then let us pass, or else explain what you wish to do with us…"

"Wait a minute!" the main bandit said, he pointed to Sylvia and Scribonia, "Who are these again?"

"They are a freewoman and a slave," Porcia replied quickly in Greek, knowing that Scribonia wouldn't understand fully what she said next in case it blew Porcia's plan, "They are meaningless and have local raiders for family. That is why I was here with Quintus Pompey's family. They have links with my father, Marcus Porcius Cato, in Africa with Scipio Salvito. Quintus stole them. I took the slave as my own but the other woman is a freewoman. Surely you will allow these two to go; they are of no use to you and their masters will come looking for you if they find them with you."

She began pushing Scribonia and Sylvia forwards, however the bandit stopped them, sticking his leg in front of Sylvia's path, "Hold on… the free one can go… but we are taking the slave as our property now!"

Porcia was terrified of leaving Scribonia on her own, but thankfully the village wasn't far and these bandits obviously didn't speak Latin. She could tell her what to do from there. Finally, Porcia nodded and whispered in Scribonia's ear: "Run to the village, get word to everyone you can and for Bellona's sake be careful!"

The bandits moved aside and Scribonia dazzled and reluctant to leave her friend alone; rushed forwards towards the door and ran out in the direction she knew the small village was in. After she'd gone, one of the bandits rushed down the stairs screaming, "He's blinded!"

Porcia looked uncaring at the blinded man, and finally turned her head back to the ghouls while her slave hugged herself to her arm. The toothless one turned back to look at Porcia and Sylvia, grinning a black smile, "Tough little bitch, aren't you?"

-

As Caesar and his mighty legions matched into what remained of the fortress that had held what remained of the republic in its wall, there were the remains of a bomb fire or rather a funeral pyre. Caesar knew that it must belong to Metellus Scipio, as he saw the loyal faces of his daughter, Cornelia, the poor widow of Pompey and his son Salvito, not giving his "greetings" to who he blamed this death for. Some of the soldiers bowed their heads to the pyre in respect, praying for the poor man's death. Although this was the end of all wars, these men thought they'd show respect to a man who did the honourable thing—well, men like Vorenus did anyway. Men like Pullo followed Caesar around the back to see the remains of another fire, which did gain Caesar's attention; in front of the old pyre, holding an urn in his hands, sat Young Cato, or Marcus as he was called by his family, mourning over the sight before him.

"Who is that you hold in your hands?"

"Marcus Porcius Cato Uticensis," he said quietly, sorrowfully, "My father."

Caesar cleared his throat and shook his head—he should have seen that coming. He knew Cato wouldn't wait for him to find him, he knew that he would take his life eventually; it was just to be so. It was obvious. He nonetheless bowed his head and whispered mournfully, "Oh, Cato! How I envy your death and took from me the chance to spare your life!" Caesar looked up and sighed, Cato had beaten him and now he would never be superior, he would never hold Cato in his grasp and that made him feel empty in his victory. He then said to no one in particular, "You have won, Cato."

Salvito came forwards then, leaving his sister to mourn, "Caesar…"

Caesar turned, "So what would you have me do with the pair of you, the sons of the greatest traitors in empire?"

"I ask for your mercy, Caesar," Salvito replied, solemn and slightly ashamed, "I have my children and my wife to think of. She has been through so much, only returned to Rome a short while ago… I must think of her."

"You are pardoned," the great general replied, at least he would spare the sons of Cato and Scipio. He turned to Marcus and smiled, "And what about you, Cato? Will you accept my mercy, young man?"

Marcus stood and glared at Caesar, since he came off the wine and onto the porridge of being a soldier he was able to control his rage, which was a better thing for both of them He said: "I have little choice; I could never do as my father did. He was a true Roman, a good man, and I am a worm to his bravery."

Caesar nodded and smiled, "Then you are pardoned," and he leant forward to kiss the young man's cheek. Yes, he had taken spoils but the great Cato was still dead. Yet, Caesar intended to take the son and daughter of him back to Rome as his victory prizes, poor and homeless. Marcus and Salvito led the victor through their house to where Cato's study, have been. The room was full of books, papers and letters, ink stained everything around the table, hard wax from his seal lay on the table, and all the papers drew Caesar in as he looked over the words and tried to take them in. As he did so, he spoke to the two gentlemen.

"Cato, where is you sister?" Caesar said casually, "I would have thought she would be here to bad mouth me and share her opinions on me, being the little spark she is."

Marcus' heart ached for his sister but felt angry that Caesar should take of her so, though it wasn't a cruel notion, he replied: "I don't know where my sister is."

That caught the dictator's attention, "You don't know?"

"No."

"How can you not know?"

"She isn't here, Caesar" Marcus said solemnly, glancing over at Salvito and then back to their enemy, "Scribonia turned up here a few days before the defeat. She told us that Quintus had been causing trouble for some bandits. They had a sort of gang war which led to Quintus fleeing. The bandits took over the house and took Porcia and her woman Sylvia hostage."

Caesar's eye-brows raised; "How long ago was this?"

"My wife travelled very quickly, it has been little over a week," Salvito explained.

"And what do they intend to do to her?"

"We don't know," Marcus replied. He collapsed into a chair and buried his face in his hands, thinking of his dear little sister captured by bandits, all alone with only that stupid slave of hers for company. They should never have left them with that fool Quintus. "I assume they intended to hold her until Quintus gave back what he stole… but we having received a message."

Caesar, who had been looking through the papers on Cato's desk, came across a piece of paper with terrible Greek on it, he read it; "Well… your father did. They threatened that if the traitor Quintus Pompey wasn't handed over, they would be liable to do her harm."

"Oh, Gods," Marcus screamed, "But Quintus has fled! We don't know where he is!"

Caesar nodded at this, "Would the Lady Scribonia remember where these thugs control things?"

Salvito nodded, "She told us, just in case we could help."

Then Caesar found himself smiling, "In that case we will have to move straight away… I am going to steal her back and return her to Rome. The two of you will return with Scribonia and the others and we will follow on once Porcia is retrieved."

Marcus stood and snapped, "Why can't I go? She's my sister!"

Caesar raised his hands smiling, "Now, Cato, be calm! I am sending you back to tell your cousin Brutus what has happened, he was quite concerned for her safety and it will come better from you then I. Meanwhile, we will sort out a rescue mission."

Salvito stared, "And who will you send on this 'rescue' coo you're plotting?"

"Don't worry," Caesar said with a twinkle in his eyes, "I have the perfect soldiers for the task."

-

"What a waste of time!" Pullo complained staring at the pyre of Marcus Porcius Cato once Vorenus had finally joined him from Scipio's side. "I thought we were going to get a victory, return to Rome with these two bastards in tow and hear the cheering crowds, but then they have to go and kill themselves!"

Vorenus rolled his eyes before staring at what remained on the pyre, "You cannot talk to a man of the republic like that."

"Oh, aye, I forgot what a Catonian you are," Pullo replied shaking his head, "Cato was a git, carrying on this war. But then I forgot how you like carrying on wars. We could have gone home after Egypt if it wasn't for him and Scipio."

"That is enough from you! They are every bit each other's equal in Rome for their league of support. Caesar would not condone offensive language towards any of his enemies."

"What, even Cato?"

"Even Cato, even Scipio, even if it was his dearest friend," Vorenus replied, "It is more honourable to say nothing then to bad mouth your enemy. It will look ill with the gods."

Pullo sighed, staring about him at the fallen building and whistling as he did so, "So the civil war is over then?"

"It looks like."

"Think they'll let us go home soon?" Pullo asked keenly, "It's been years since I've seen Eirene…"

Just then, the war continued for Vorenus and Pullo as they were summoned to see Caesar by Caesar's tribune. Now, it appeared to the two soldiers that Caesar was currently not on good terms with the pair, especially after the Pompey incident, and although they had still saved Cleopatra from Ptolemy, the priest and the woman, or whatever the hell he was, no doubt he was still upset about Pompey. Yet, they must have been the only two common soldiers who Caesar was on terms with.

As they entered what had once been Cato's room, they saluted and stood to attention. Vorenus spoke in his usual sombre voice: "Sir, you asked to see us."

Caesar looked up at them with his same strong face, looking graceful with patrician airs and yet it looked 'one of the crowds', and although his face was merciless, he managed to make it merciful at the same time. No one had a face like Caesar's: "I did, I have a task for the pair of you."

"Yes, sir"

"About thirty miles away, there have been gang wars going on, many of them fuelled by Pompey's son Quintus Pompey," Caesar explained, he glanced at Pullo and went on, "You have come face to face with him before. Well, you won't have to deal with him, I am asking you to retrieve a hostage taken by one of the leading gangs roaming that forest. There aren't as many as you think but they have enough influence. All you'll have to do is sneak in, rescue her and sneak out again."

"Yes, sir," Vorenus replied, "Who are we looking for saw?"

Caesar kept quiet for a little while as he wrote down something on some paper, he was copying Scribonia's notes that she had left about where they were. He handed it to Vorenus once he was finished and went on, "Her name is Porcia Catonis, of the Porcii Catonii Salonii, the daughter of the same Marcus Porcius Cato who now lies at the bottom of an urn. She will be with her slave, Sylvia, so when to manage to retrieve her you will have to take the slave also, understand?"

"Yes, sir" both men replied.

"One more thing," Caesar said quickly, "You will not tell her of her father's death, she will have through hard times and I feel that I should tell her of death myself. When you find her, you will treat her with the up most respect; she is a woman of patrician birth, the daughter of a man worshiped as a god here in Utica and Marcus Junius Brutus' cousin… if she has any complaints about either of you, it will not be tolerated. Understand?"

Pullo and Vorenus had to fight the urge to look at each other, "Yes, sir."

"You may go, see my tribune about money," Caesar said, dismissing the pair who hurried away, As they left Caesar knew he made the right choice, after all, had it not been these two men who rescued his nephew Gaius Octavian and retrieved the golden eagle, they found the Roman treasury gold, survived a storm that drowned an army, found Pompey Magnus on a beach and still managed to retrieve Cleopatra from death at the hand of her brother's men. These two were special; the rescue of Cato's daughter would just be another amazing task for them.

-

Upon the return of Marcus Porcius Cato, the son of the elder, and Salvito with his wife (and the remains of their fathers) the people also caught news of the kidnap and hostage taking of Cato's daughter, Porcia Catonis. There was talk among the plebeians who came up with sordid and downright disgusting and horrific stories to what became of her, while the patricians knew the more down-to-earth and truthful facts. Although Atia wished that she could believe in what the plebeians said, what Octavia had learnt from an overjoyed Servilia was probably nearer to the truth. Indeed, Servilia was anything but worried about her 'dear unfortunate' niece going missing in the provinces, but what did worry her was the worried reaction the news gave to her son.

Brutus, who was normally one to look on the bright-side or at least make some funny remark to lighten the mood of those worrying, but this time he was just plain scared. His sister Junia Tertia had married Cassius, and Cassius had noticed this change in character. So had Cicero, but he was hardly one to cheer up the strangely solemn young patrician.

It didn't help that everyone was remembering her childhood also… while most of the people outside the family unit didn't know about the hardships of Porcia's childhood, somehow it was all Brutus could think about. He was very guilty about not speaking out against it, but then no one in the family would speak out against it, even Porcia herself had just let it happen. It was because, when she tried to tell Cato, he didn't believe her even though he knew of Servilia's cruelty. Once a fairly handsome man, everyone suspected that it had been Servilia's attacking him time when Brutus was a baby that had scared Cato's face for life. She hated Cato, secretly. She hated Marcus, secretly. She hated Porcia, openly and without shame. Brutus often wondered why his mother had hated the little girl so much, and she never explained her reasons.

"Even if we found her now," Brutus heard Servilia saying to Octavia at one of their 'weaving' meetings, "She would be fallen, spoilt and unclean by now!"

Oh, that poor girl! She still lay awake in his memories… petite, pale, thin and pretty, sweetest little Porcia. It was hard to believe that the young girl, so helpless, who had once hung onto him so tightly, looked up with bleary eyes and cried, so terrified, _'Who will take care of me if you're not here?'_ and the woman who was strong, intelligent, brave and now gone with the wind, missing in action somewhere out there. Maybe the reason he couldn't see them as the same person was because he saw them as two different people? He saw the child as his cousin but he saw the woman as… someone else.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he missed all this time since he surrendered and she went on her way. He missed the sound of her intelligent voice, the way she always seemed to know what to say… he missed her mind but also her beauty… it always made him feel calm and happy to look at her; she had a face that needed to be admired and looked at because she was so beautiful. It made your heart brace to think about her—or at least it made his heart brace. He also found that every time he read a book or wrote a letter, the smell of the paper and ink reminded of the house they had been held up in, especially her room which was filled with paper and books. And then there was the strange sweet smell that was in her hair… Every time he thought of all these things, he felt like crying her name, which sounded so wonderful, rolling off the tip of his tongue… _Oh, Porcia… Porcia…_ _Porcia_…

-

Porcia couldn't remember the last time she actually saw the day light outside the house. Although they were heartless bandits, they were treating her very well, equally to Sylvia, but that didn't bother her. In the weeks she was held hostage by these beastly men she came to see that, although slaves were belongings, they were still people capable of real emotions. Sylvia was very strong, considering that she normally relied on her mistress for strength in hard times. Porcia didn't mind that either, and she was grateful for the company. Several weeks past, she couldn't have told you how many, she past the days talking, reading and sleeping, hoping against hope that one day someone will come across them and save them from these men. They fed her on mouldy bred while they were happy to eat her porridge. Things were tolerable but still Porcia yearned to be rescued, especially after she re-read Zeno's _Laws of Stoicism_, rules which she knew like the back of her hand… but then there wasn't much to remember about the back of her hand since she had very porcelain skin.

Then, one day all of a sudden, the toothless wonder stormed into her room with his black grin staring. He pointed at her and laughed, "If your family doesn't reply to our demands by tomorrow, you die." Porcia stayed calm, it was the stoic way to remain calm when you stared death in the face and the more painful the death the better, but Sylvia howled into a burst of weeps. The man laughed again, "And you get sold at the local market, my honey!"

So, they spent the night comforting each other. Sylvia had always been with her mistress, ever since she was a baby, she had been there as her duenna. It had been Sylvia's hope that she would be Porcia's duenna until the day that she died, that her mistress would be there, healthy, alive and with her own children, the day that Sylvia died… but now, they were to be parted. And meanwhile, Porcia was ready to accept this end, confident that it would be so… it was too much to hope that a reply or a rescue would occur between then and tomorrow.

The next day, they came up to the room where they had been keeping her and dragged the terrified, screaming and crying Sylvia from her petticoats. They took out short, badly-made knives that suited them very well and appeared to be freshly sharpened, "It's the best we can do for such a pretty lady," the toothless one said, "It seems a shame to be losing such a lovely thing."

"I'm sorry I had to leave you so soon," she said plainly, calm as you like and brave, "What are you all waiting for? Kill me!"

"Inpatient little bitch, aren't you?" he said, raising his knife.

Porcia sat so calmly that the men wondered what was wrong with her for never had they met a woman as unafraid of death as this one. If they thought the sight of the knives would bring her to a weeping wreck they were wrong. Death was what a Roman breathed, they would all meet it one day, and Porcia wasn't going to fight fate. It was all the better, for just as the blade was about to touch her neck, there was a sudden erupt of screams from behind them.

The others at this failed execution took their knives and ran to see what the fuss was. The toothless man only remained, his face fixed on where the commotion was coming from. Once again, not giving a thought to what she was doing, Porcia kicked him hard and painfully in the back. His own scream burst out as he fell and she didn't give a thought to anything. She found Sylvia, no longer handled by the men, and they crept quietly through the house to see what was going on. As they made their way down the crooked stairs, Porcia stopped them both a stared as she saw the most wondrous and disgusting sight:

Two men in fighting kit were murdering every single one of the scoundrels as if they were cats pouncing on mice! Porcia's hopes of freedom may have been coming true, but the sight of these men swimming in the blood of the dead was awful. She had not a clue how many men were holding the house until these two had made a great pile of the bodies and made a red sea of their blood. As soon as the last was killed, the tall, brutish one finished him off with a horrible sword through the throat and collapsed into the blood massacre, breathing heavily.

Finally, they both looked up, and the brutish one stood and point while the red one stared at her. The brutish one stared more intently and in shock then the red one was, for the brutish one wasn't normally confronted with women of such beauty. Suddenly, he walked a bit close and said rather un-gentlemanly, "Please, please, gods, please tell us that you are Porcia Catonis of the Porcii Salonii, daughter of Cato!"

Porcia looked the man up and down, before fluttering her eyes in a delicate patrician manner and nodded, "I am. Who are you?"

The red-haired one saluted and forced the brute to stand to attention. He barked in a more stoic manner as he spoke: "Spear centurion Lucius Vorenus; prefect in the evocati; General Mark Antony, under the command of Gaius Julius Caesar, son of Venus—"

"Imperator of the thirteenth legion, dictator of Rome, Pontifex Maximus, etc," Porcia finished with an equally stoic voice. She took Sylvia's hand and led her down the stairs, stopping at the bottom where the bloodbath was. She pointed to the other, "And he is?"

"Titus Pullo, legionary of the 13th" the brutish one said, he then pointed to Vorenus and laughed, "Under his command, who is under Mark Antony, who is under Julius Caesar."

Porcia looked back to Vorenus, "Has he no respect for authority?"

"Forgive him, ma'am" Vorenus replied sternly, "He is not used to the company of nobility."

"And you are, are you?" she replied, somewhat more sarcastically then she should have.

"I served Antony back in Rome, ma'am" he said, still emotionless.

Porcia breathed out laughter and shook her head, "Yes? Well he's not really nobility; he's a plebeian of high rank because his mother married beneath her. If Antony is your experience of upper class, then I fancy you would be more vulgar and beastly then he," she then looked to Pullo and sighed, "Do you always let your friend speak for you?"

Pullo laughed, "Well, you know how it is, ma'am… he knows all the big words, like."

Porcia then laughed genuinely and stepped, pretty coolly, over the body that was blocking the stairs and walked very calmly over the red salt sea, "Thank you to both of you for helping my slave and I. You came in the nick of time; the bandits were just about the take my life. I am grateful to you even if you are of the 13th... what I do wonder is that how Caesar could have faith in only two men to kill an army of bandits and rescue two women condemned to die?"

"No one can question the judgement of Caesar, ma'am," Pullo replied quickly.

She nodded, "That was very well-said, and one would think your friend would have said that. You are much smarter then you look… Titus Pullo, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pullo replied with a smile.

"And Lucius Vorenus"

Vorenus saluted and again and Porcia nodded. She would remember these two, she was sure of it. "We best get going," he said with a firm voice. Leading the three of them outside, Vorenus straight away went to sort his horse while Pullo breathed in the fresh air, as both Porcia and Sylvia were caught in the glare of the grey light sky. It had been weeks since they had last set eyes on it. She had wondered if she'd ever be allowed to walk out again. "If we keep at pace," Vorenus said as he sorted it all out, "We should be reunited with the rest of the legion in two days, once there; Caesar will be able to make arrangements to send you to your family."

Porcia had taken note at that… why had Caesar sent men to retrieve her? How would he know she was missing? Before she could ask him, Pullo spoke, pointing to the walls of the house. All over it were names and names and names of men, women and children. He turned to Porcia and pointed, "What's all this then?"

"I believe that the people who lived in the house originally lived here for generations, those who stayed here wrote their names on the walls," Porcia explained, walking towards the wall herself and smiling, "Scribonia, Sylvia and I put our names on here."

"I'll write mine and Vorenus' name then," Pullo pulled out a small knife and walked towards the wall to do likewise. Vorenus rolled his eyes, he called that they had to hurry but yet, Pullo ignored him and tried to write out his name. When he was finished he looked at it, taking a death breath and looked at Porcia, "There, all done!"

She looked at the writing and laughed. It read "T. PVLEIO" and "L. VARINVS" she looked at Pullo and shook her head. She walked back over to Vorenus who lifted her onto his horse back. Pullo turned back and lifted Sylvia onto his horse back before climbing on himself. She held on to Vorenus tight while she saw her slave looking a bit uneasy being close to too. Porcia knew straight off that Vorenus was a gentleman, or as gentlemanly as you could get when you are a sombre, inexperienced with women and stone wall stoic. That was probably why Porcia felt better riding with him. Not that Pullo didn't have his charms… she was sure to any drunken whore in a brothel he'd make a lovely partner. He had more character then most men. Trouble was that Porcia was used to the clean-cut and gentlemanly patrician men. Meeting plebeians was like a whole new experience for her. She wasn't sure as yet that it was an experience she'd like to re-live.

That night they set up camp, and this was where Porcia became too scared to sleep. She announced straight away, "I will not sleep; these forests are too dangerous to fall asleep in."

Vorenus and Pullo weren't going to argue with a haughty, patrician bitch, as Quintus would have called her, because they were liable to throw tantrums. They may have been men but she was a higher born woman; even though it wasn't in Porcia's nature to throw a tantrum. She decided to make some porridge for them out of the rashes that they had, hoping they'd like it. As she watched the two of them she finally saw their different backgrounds. Vorenus was obviously educated, a sort of peasant nobility even where as Pullo seemed like a country boy, someone who was uneducated. She could understand that Pullo was not as well educated as Vorenus was, and part of her felt it was her duty to show this freedman how it should be written. Every Roman should know how to spell their name.

"Pullo, do you know how to write?" Porcia asked suddenly.

"I know the alphabet" he said, proudly.

"Can you write anything, though?" she queried, "Like a letter or your name?"

Pullo blushed a little and shook his name, "You guessed then, did you? No I can't write a letter no one ever taught me out to write. My mother… worked in the countryside… both my parents died when I was little. I can't remember them much. Any road, no one ever taught me how to write properly. I taught myself how to count cause you need that in the army, alphabet too."

Porcia nodded. She was feeling guilty at how stuck-up she had been earlier, looking down on them. So she smiled and said, "Would you like me to teach you how to spell your name? You can get by without letters, but you must be taught how to spell your name."

His eyes brightened, and behind them Vorenus caught ear of this and gasped in surprise. Pullo nodded, "That would be very nice of you, ma'am… very nice indeed."

She picked up a long stick and pulled Pullo away from the wall. She began to write out her own name in the dust, it its entirety: "This is my name. P-O-R-C-I-A; _Porcia_, and I am of the Catonian branch, so I am; C-A-T-O-N-I-S; _Catonis_, and I am descended from Cato the Censor's second wife so I am; S-A-L-O-N-I-A; _Salonia_. Porcia Catonis Salonia. Do you understand?" she said pointing to what she had written. Pullo nodded. She then began to write out Pullo's name in entirely, "This is your name and how it is spelt; T-I-T-V-S; _Titus_, P-V-L-L-O; _Pullo_. Titus Pullo, do you see?"

Behind then Vorenus shook his head while Pullo, not at all embarrassed by this young woman teaching him to spell his name, he nodded in interest. She handed him the stick and asked him to write it himself. He did so, still with some difficulty but he did it. Porcia smiled, "Do you think you will be able to remember that?"

"I will," Pullo replied with a thrilled laugh, he wrote his name out over and over until the entire dirt around them was covered in TITVS PVLLO everywhere, "Thank you for teaching me this, ma'am."

Porcia nodded, "You're welcome." She glanced over at Vorenus who was watching them now. She shook her head and smiled, "He's very uptight, isn't he? He reminds me of my cousin Brutus, he appears so tragically old fashioned."

"He's alright him, his old ways do him credit," Pullo replied with a cheerful smile.

"So he's always like that?" Porcia returned the smile, "I'm very old fashioned myself. It is the way my father brought me up…" she stopped, noticing Pullo and Vorenus staring in different directions now. She knew something was wrong but there was a nagging pain in her heart that told her not to ask. She just went on, "Although I have to say, my cousin is much more cheerful then Lucius."

She leant forwards and wrote out Vorenus' name: "Here we are, Lucius Vorenus," she said pointing to the name she'd written: 'LVCIVS VORENVS'." Pullo laughed and copied it with his stick, over the tons of Titus Pullos. Porcia smiled and glanced back over to him, "Does he have a family?"

"Yes, ma'am, wife, two daughters and a… grandson…" he added quickly, thinking of Evander again and that night down in the sewers with Octavian, when they found out about Niobe… well, there was no point in letting a sensitive patrician girl know anymore about Vorenus' family.

Porcia didn't notice the change in tone anyway, "And you Pullo?"

"Nah, like I said, my parents are dead… I live where I want and eat what I like," he replied, although a sudden thought of Eirene came into his mind, though once again Porcia did not notice. He nodded, "I know who your family is."

"Pullo," Vorenus suddenly erupted, "You shouldn't talk to a lady like that."

"I don't mind," Porcia replied plainly, "Here in the middle of the forest with rags as my clothes and nothing on my feet, I don't have time to give myself such airs. Although Vorenus, I must say I admire your respect for the nobility. I would have thought at plebeian such as you would have nothing but hate for me."

Vorenus didn't know how to answer: "I believe in the divinity of the republic, ma'am."

"He's a Catonian" Pullo blurted.

Porcia turned her head so quickly that she hurt her neck, but she ignored it, "Are you?" she said with cheer, when Vorenus nodded and Porcia smiled, "So you really do believe in the old fashioned republic, no wonder you remind me so much of my father and my cousin Brutus. I must say that it is nice to someone with respect for the good old Roman ideals," she then suddenly turned to the porridge bowl and mixed it, "Do either of you want any more?"

"I will!" Pullo said quickly,

"Only if you wish it so ma'am," Vorenus said, confused about what to say.

Porcia laughed, "Now for goodness sake, Lucius. You need not stand on ceremony. Save your politeness for when you're back in Rome, out here, I cannot be bothered to make you all starve just for the sake of not looking greedy. If you're hungry, just take some more," she said handing them both their bowls. She quietly while the tried to eat as quietly as they could, she looked to Vorenus, "Is it alright?"

His eyes looked up and he nodded quickly. There was something odd about the say she had said that, it reminded him so much of Niobe. She had very similar habits that it made him remember his family straight away and how they must be doing at home. Little Lucius would be quite big now, and other things too. He finally spoke, "Delicious, ma'am, thank you."

Porcia gave a very Niobe-ish smile and nod before turning to her slave Sylvia and began talking about something Pullo and Vorenus didn't understand. Both of them had noticed something about Porcia, not just that she was like Niobe in certain ways, but she was different from most women. Pullo thought she was like Eirene, not in character but in the way that looking at her made you feel calm and relaxed; he kept thinking '_she is a queen amongst men_'. She was beautiful, intelligent and fine… it made ones teeth hurt to look at her. Her clothes maybe torn, her hair may be a mess, his face may be dirty… but she was still every inch a lady, even inch a patrician. She was the best of the lot of them. _A queen amongst men_.

"I not a real patrician, you know," Porcia said suddenly after a while, not looking at either of them. "My great-great-grandfather, Cato the Censor, was an Italian, a plebeian, a farmer and a soldier. My great-great-grandmother Salonia was a freedwoman, she was born a slave. My family had to work their bones to the brim in order to get where they are today. I suppose my only claim to being a real patrician is through my grandmother, Livia Drusa, and even then her blood is not as blue as some. I admit it, I have more plebeian blood then patrician but I am not ashamed of it. I don't see why so many blue-blooded patricians are… It's rather silly, now that I sit down to think about it."

-

The sun was brightly beaming down the next day and the sky was clear blue, and treading through the forest on horse back, were Vorenus and Pullo with the people the rescued. Today, however, it was Sylvia on horse back with Vorenus and Porcia was on horse back with Pullo. They were also riding on slightly ahead, not because he wanted to go on ahead but because Vorenus had sent him ahead—Pullo was singing. It wasn't even a song, just his name: "T-I-T-V-S Titus, Pullo P-V-L-L-O; Titus Pullo" over and over again.

Porcia shook her head, "Pullo, don't you know any other songs?"

"Yes."

"Can't you sing one of them?"

"I could but…"

"But what, Pullo?"

He cleared his throat and smiled, "Well, my songs are hardly fitting for a lady's ears."

"Charming"

"You don't like my name song then?"

"It's not that I don't like it," she replied, "It's just that it's annoying."

"I'll stop then, ma'am" Pullo said shutting up straight away.

"Listen," Porcia began, speaking up enough to Vorenus could hear also, "I hope you don't think me an awfully haughty woman anymore. I know I spoke down to you when we first met but I want you to know that I am grateful to both of you. You did rescue me." Just as he did Vorenus came hurrying up to him, Sylvia holding on to him tightly.

Pullo nodded, "Lucius Vorenus, sir, what is it?"

"It is not far now, if you hurry we will be with the 13th soon," Vorenus explained, he looked to Porcia and nodded, "Once there Caesar will be able to help you return to Rome, ma'am."

Porcia liked that they still treated her as a superior, but she hated the way they were constantly calling her ma'am, she felt it made her sound like an old woman. She just nodded and smiled. It was odd but she had never looked on plebeians before with more respect. Oh, maybe Vorenus and Pullo weren't gentlemen through and through, but they were true to themselves and had hearts of gold. No doubt they were polite under order of Caesar, trying to look good, but she could tell these two were special. At the bottom of her heart, she had a feeling that they would be going long after she was ashes. They had powerful gods on their side. Porcia didn't. Still, thousands of years from now... which of the three would be the better known.

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**_The next chapter is going on very soon. Porcia will return to the camp of Caesar and find out about her father... but how will she cope with the grief and where will she go now her family is ruined? Also, what are Pullo and Vorenus going to take away from their meeting Porcia? Find out next chapter, which will one day come up._**


	11. 2: Domus, iterum

_Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome (PS: Yes, I use this as a heading these days) I just want to add that these people don't even belong to well, Porcia doesn't. Most of the characters, including Pullo and Vorenus, are real names and those names belong to them._

_My, my… I'm so popular, been looking and people seem to be suggesting my story. I'm so flattered; I don't know what to think. As for the story, I am finishing off Porcia's meeting with Vorenus and Pullo; she'll see Caesar and be reunited with the city of Rome. Anyway, it has taken me ages to get this done, I'm never got a chapter finished in one stroke… not since… no never… except one time in Year 6 (5th Grade) English class, but that was like eight or nine years ago. Just like with HBO: Rome, I am taking liberties with the timeframe because that is just crazy!_

_PS: Laurie, if I knew your email I would have replied; don't forget to place it on the review when you next review and I'll reply to you._

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Somewhere not far from the thirteenth legion, four people on horseback made their way towards the standard where all crudeness was frowned on by the serious stoics under the command of their general, Gaius Julius Caesar. Of course, crudeness was a part of the army and when Caesar gave them permission to steal gold, rape the women and kill the enemy, they were over the moon. When he ordered them to be respectable, they did it, by thunder; they did it. Vorenus and Pullo were ordered to be respectable to the young patrician lady, Porcia Catonis, daughter of Caesar's greatest enemy Cato. At first, upon meeting her, even Vorenus thought they had picked up the ultimate haughty bitch, but after speaking to her and getting to know her as much as they could for plebs, they realised that the nobility were just as human as they were and were capable to great kindness.

Titus Pullo knew straight away that the Lady Porcia was not a normal lady. He felt that she was _a_ _queen amongst men_, and superior to all her own sex, the females. Pullo had met quite a few women in his time and yet he'd never met one who seemed to have as much strength as Porcia did. She was also nice, she had taught him to write him name and that was more then any patrician could have done for him. She was right up there with his young master, Octavian, who he also liked. They truly were the only patricians he could say he liked—well, there was Caesar; he had to like Caesar. Vorenus on the other hand was more interested by the fact that she was so much like Niobe. She could be prickly—what woman couldn't?–but she was kind, considerate, true and loyal… And Vorenus couldn't help wondering what sort of man Porcia would end up with, and then wondered if there would be a parallel between him and this man also. It was like looking into the Niobe mirror, seeing the woman she would have been had she been born a patrician.

Vorenus rode along with Sylvia, Porcia's duenna, on horseback with him while Pullo had the honour of carrying the queen of all men on his horse. The two of them had been on good terms since she offered to teach him how to write his name. Vorenus chose to watch from afar, always remembering to scold Pullo if he stepped out of line; but before he knew it, the stoic Porcia was including Pullo in a conversation.

"If you ask me," Pullo said, replying to a question Porcia asked him about employment in Rome; they had been talking about the army and both soldiers hated it when she asked what they would do upon returning to Rome, "If you ask me, I think that unemployment is too high in Rome today, what with all the slaves and that, there is not good work for a man with a sword. I mean, I like having my spoils and I like being in Rome, but it's _boring_ when you don't have anything to do, you know?"

Porcia nodded, "I have heard a lot of disgruntled plebeians have taken to the streets, rioting because slaves have taken all the work. The reason they are bought is because they work for food, not money. The higher nobility feel that this is a cheaper way to get things done. Although I am a patrician myself, I agree that in the long run the using of slaves is a sure way of doom. Bit by bit the high nobility sulk as they lose ground to the plebeians. On the other hand, Roman economy is built on slavery and although the poorer citizens of Rome wish for Caesar to make himself king, if that is done neither the plebeians nor patricians will have anything. In an imperial world, it is the king who taxes the people and spends all the money as he sees fit."

"Yes…" Pullo glanced to Vorenus and said in a rather unsure voice, he then he turned to her and whispered, "Listen, ma'am, I'd like to ask your wisdom about another matter, off politics, if you don't mind."

"Depends what it is," Porcia replied, glancing at Pullo.

"About women," Pullo added. Vorenus let out a 'hah' before riding on ahead of them.

Porcia looked confused, "What's wrong with him?"

"Well, I taught him how to be nice to his wife and he's mocking me 'cause I'm now asking you, he's a strange one, him," he explained.

Porcia raised an eye-brow, "Well if you know all about how to please a woman…" she stopped to clear her throat, "Then why would you think me someone who you can ask about the mind of a woman?"

"Well, you're a woman," Pullo began.

"Oh, you noticed?"

Pullo laughed at her sense of humour before going one, "Any road… This girl I like, haven't seen in like, two or three years, can't remember, and she reminds me of you. 'Cause, like, both of you are calm and quiet… only thing is that she doesn't speak our words…"

Porcia nodded, "That can be a problem; I shall assume she is a slave then, if she cannot speak our words?"

"Yes."

"I see…" Porcia found this a puzzling thing to get by, "Well… I imagine that within the years that you have been gone, she will have at least learnt how to communicate with you, since you are her master. My great-great-grandfather Cato the Censor married the daughter of his former slave, Salonia, who was my great-great-grandmother, and she spoke very good Latin. At first the marriage was strange because he was eighty and she was only sixteen, but she shared interests with her since they both loved agriculture. So what I suggest is that you try and share interests with her. A marriage will not work if a husband and wife cannot talk to each other, and if you wish to win the affections of this girl, you will have to be good to her. Since she is a slave you must still be a master but a good master, as a stoic I firmly believe that even slaves must be treated with respect."

Pullo smiled, hearing these words of Porcia he couldn't help but wish that he had belonged to her during his slave days. Those were the days of his life he never let out, and didn't feel like thinking about. Porcia's stoic ways may make her firm, haughty and steadfast, they also added to virtue and kindness. He envied that Sylvia.

"Right, so, be nice; anything else?"

"Err…" Porcia thought, she then stopped and laughed, "Pullo, don't ask me, do what you think will suit the situation. If you like this girl then you'll have to win her affections in the way you see fit. I can't figure out for you. Tell me, what is the girl's name?"

"Eirene" he replied.

"That's a beautiful name," she said with a breath of sweetness; "It means 'peaceful', doesn't it? Why did you choose that name? I didn't think you'd know a lot of Greek names."

"I like to look at her" Pullo said with a slight sound of seriousness and affection, the first she had heard from him. He then looked all nostalgic that Porcia's lovely large eyes stared at him for quite a while, knowing he was going to say something else. After a while, he looked at her and had a smile and small laugh, "It was my mother's name, that's how I know the name Eirene."

All Porcia could do was smile, "Well, it is a very nice name."

"She was the nicest woman I ever knew," Pullo said sorrowfully, "But she died when I was a boy and, I had to look after myself. She had hair just like Eirene's hair, but I think that Eirene's eyes are brown. My mother's were a sort of amber-grey, changed colour all the time…" he smiled and glanced to look into Porcia's eyes. They were obviously some sort of grey but now they looked a sort of hazel colour, "Just like your eyes!"

Porcia kept her smile, "I like the sound of your mother."

-

In Rome, the family sat on the edge of their seats and waited for news from Caesar. Brutus had written to him endless times, asking if everything was okay and if Porcia was found but each time the same news came back: _I don't know; we have to be patient_. Brutus didn't like waiting for anything. As a child, he was the first to admit that he was spoilt, and he wanted everything to happen at once. Brutus never grew out of his habits; he did have the intelligence and morals of an adult and the maturity and humour of a child, but in recent weeks his normally cheerful and happy personality was turned into an angry, fearful and longing man. And all his friends took note:

"I should have carried her off with me when he left Pompey's camp," he said to Cicero on one of the old man's afternoon visits; if Cicero hadn't come then Brutus would have been stuck alone with Servilia's moaning and Claudia's indifference. "I should have made her come back with us. She wouldn't have liked it but she would have been safe. Cato used her to his own devices; ever since she was old enough to be used, he used her."

"Dear, dear" Cicero said lazily, shaking his head in his pompous manner, "We do have it bad, don't we? Your love is blinding our logic! Porcia is Cato's daughter; he could do whatever he liked to her. It is the stoic way. I myself have a daughter whom I love dearly but I have never let love stop me from making my political alliances. Terentia scolded me for marrying her to men she didn't love… Spiteful, money grabbing, deceitful little crow! What does she know?"

Brutus rolled his eyes—if Cicero was going to bad mouth Terentia again then he was kicking the old man out. He was accusing her of hiding away money, a woman whom he was affectionate and whom he had, in his own way, loved dearly. Truth was their money had never recovered from the time of Cicero's exile. His letters to Terentia had been so longing and affectionate—but back in Rome she too was suffering, desperate to protect the family's interests, but her husband caught the wrong end of the stick. Cicero accused her of keeping back money, which was true but she only did it because their finance was far from perfect. Cicero made a terrible mistake divorcing Terentia, and he would regret it sooner or later. Not only had he lost the woman who he leaned on, he had to pay back her huge dowry.

"You speak of Porcia as if she were some sort of belonging!" Brutus finally said, folding his arms and making a frustrated groan, "She's not, she's a person… A woman more equal to any of us men in Rome. She is wise, brave and good-hearted, and Cato always chose to ignore that and treated her like a piece of meat."

Cicero put away ill thoughts of Terentia and smiled, "Well, that was before. Sadly wise and brave Cato is dead, I have written a piece on him, praising his life. It's called simply, _Cato_."

"I didn't see that coming!" Brutus said with childish humour.

"Indeed," Cicero replied, disliking that childish aspect of Brutus. He glanced up at his young friend and went on in a suggestive tone, "I thought it was the only thing to do since the Optimates Party has fallen with Cato. It is such a pity that there is no one to take his place and fight for the ideals that he held so dear—"

"No" Brutus said simply, "I will not re-establish the right-wing of the senate. I am done with politics!"

"You are Cato's nephew!" the older man protested.

"And my cousin Marcus is Cato's son," the younger replied, "Go and ask him to re-find the party."

Cicero drummed his fingers on his knee impatiently, wishing that Brutus would corporate. He was always an awkward young man, when he was sober or drunk, and his elders sometimes treated him as if they were fathers talking to their adolescent sons; not a good thing for a twenty-nine-year-old direct descendant of Lucius Junius Brutus. "You cousin Marcus is a soldier, not a politician!"

"And I am done with politics!" Brutus snapped, also starting to get frustrated now. "You heard what Antony said, if he catches you playing too hard at politics, he will kill you."

"I am not afraid to die," Cicero said in a very un-convincing tone. He glanced side ways to Brutus, "If you were to lead the republican cause in the senate, you would be helping the republic recover from the turmoil of civil war. The Optimates is a party leaded by great men in our history, and your uncle was one of them!"

"And Sulla," Brutus said raising an eyebrow, "Do you believe he was a great leader?"

"All parties have their ups and downs"

"I haven't the strength to lead the Optimates, Cicero," Brutus replied, simply and calmly, "I say again, I am done with politics. I am not my Uncle Cato. Let the republican party die, what is the point of having political parties when we have a dictator?"

-

Everyone stared as the four of them entered Caesar's camp; it had been a long time since the men had seen a woman that wasn't a greasy foreigner. In fact, it was quite a refreshing sight to see a real Roman lady, even if she looked as if she'd been to Hades and back. They all stopped whatever they were doing, whether it was cooking their rashes on the fire, having a semi-bath, spitting or having a heart to heart talk with their "brothers" they stopped and stared. Sylvia looked in shock at the gawping faces but Porcia, in all her innocence of men, didn't see what was wrong, although she found their keen interest somewhat odd.

She blinked, "Why are they looking at us like that?"

Pullo laughed, "They aren't looking at 'us'; they're looking at _you_."

"But why are they looking at me?" Porcia asked, looking curiously at one of the younger soldiers, who were staring at her as if she was a statue to be admired. It was politer then some of the others, "They don't know who I am, do they?"

"Well, some of them might have heard your name," Pullo admitted, "But it's hard to tell it's you, under all that hair, in' it?"

"But then why are they looking?"

Pullo laughed and let his vulgar soldiery words slip without thinking: "They think you're good cunny."

"Pullo!" snapped Vorenus' commanding voice, on then Pullo realised his mistake.

"Excuse me?" she finally mustered in her well-spoken, airy voice.

Porcia's heading whipped back to face Pullo, her eyes wide in shock, not by the reason the men were looking at her but by his choice of words. They were so vulgar and no man had ever spoken so… frankly to her. Even when her Aunt Servilia tried to insult her it didn't come out like that, even if she was thinking it.

"Err…" Pullo said, coming over all red as he rode by, and Vorenus tried to signal to the men to top staring at them, "Err… I what I mean is, they think you are very…" he tried to find a polite word to use to go with what his former choice of word had been, but there was none. His face was concentrated as he said the first thing that came into his mind, "Pretty… They think you're pretty, don't they?"

Porcia rolled her eyes; she knew what Pullo had meant first time. To be honest, she didn't think there was a nice word for _that_; when Cicero found the bust of one of Prima, Porcia's cousins, in the belongings of a freedman, Servilia screamed Prima silly but never said a _completely_ sexual word. Patrician men didn't speak so frankly, even when they were drunk, and even when it was Brutus drunk (who seemed to speak more frankly then Servilia liked.)

"I'm sorry, ma'am" Pullo finally said, very embarrassed.

Porcia shook her head, "Think nothing of it, Pullo. Were I not a lady I might have been flattered and were I not a virtuous woman I might have not been shocked," she looked around again and whispered, "Are they attempting levity?"

"Eh?"

"Are they trying to be funny with these looks?"

"No!" Pullo assured her, he nodded and spoke in a cheerful and frank manner, "Gods, even with the tangled hair, dusty face, worn out, ripped dress and the muddy kidnapped look; you are quite a beauty."

Caesar's tribune ran out to greet the two soldiers, the slave and Porcia, saluting to Pullo and Vorenus before he led all of them up to where Caesar was. In his dominating position, he was looking over the papers, one of which was a letter from Posca with news from Rome, together with what was left of Cato's affairs. As the party entered, his dark eyes looked up but lost his careless look as he set eyes on the worn yet vital face of Cato's daughter. She returned the look; although she disliked Caesar she had been taught by her father to be polite to men of her own rank, at all times.

Vorenus and Pullo saluted, and Vorenus spoke in his barking, stoic tone: "Porcia Catonis of the Porcii, sir."

"Porcia" Caesar began.

"Caesar" Porcia replied, without emotion.

Caesar nodded and looked to Vorenus, Pullo and Sylvia, "Take the woman, I wish to speak to the lady Porcia alone. You did impressive work, gentlemen," he looked to Porcia, "I trust they were good to you?"

She nodded and offered the two men a true, gentle and warm smile, "Yes, they were perfect gentlemen, they brave in their rescue and very good to me on the journey. Not many men could have done better."

Caesar looked to them and nodded, "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir" Vorenus replied, and after giving Porcia one last nod of respect, he left followed by Pullo who also gave Porcia a smile, much more respectable then most smiles he gave women. Once they were gone, Porcia felt as if a true piece of the legion had disappeared through those doors. Common soldiers weren't all that bad once you got to know them. She turned to Caesar, losing her smile straight away.

"You're probably wondering why I am the one who rescued you," he began in his grand, commanding and gracious voice. He leaned forward and gestured a seat, "Sit down, you'll need to." Porcia obeyed him, her heart racing even though she had a feeling about what was coming. It was the only thing it could be. Why else would Caesar have helped her?

"I think I already know… but I think it is only fitting if you say it," Porcia said, swallowing her coming tears. She looked straight at Caesar and braced herself, "It'll be much easier if you say it straight and very fast."

Caesar's dark eyes looked at her; he sat straight and paused, even in cases such as these he felt as if he was going to be sick. He finally said it: "Your father is dead."

Porcia's eyes shut tight and she shrank inside her emotions. The blow had still hit her hard. She knew it was coming, she knew as soon as Pullo and Vorenus said who sent them that her father must be dead… He would never have surrendered to Caesar. Although her father had been anything but affectionate towards her, he had valued her above all other women, he had wished endlessly that she was the boy so she might follow him into politics. Cato was dead, but Porcia couldn't find it in her to cry. Her father would have disapproved of her weeping for him. A few steams of water fell from her eyes, but she didn't give in to howling and weeping. _I am Cato's daughter_, she thought, _Cato would be strong_.

She opened her eyes, bleary and blurred, "My brother?"

"He is safe."

Her heart settled slightly—at least dear Marcus was alive, and hopefully as sober as he was when she last saw him. He had been so good staying away from the wine but the death of their father and defeat might have caused him to give up his dreams of being a soldier and sink back to the bottom of a win flask. She hoped to see him again soon.

"What will you do to me now that you have 'caught' me?"

"I don't intend to do _anything_ to you, my dear" he said in his nonchalant manner, "I will send you back to Rome tomorrow. As your father is dead, and declared a traitor to the republic for continuing the civil war—" that made Porcia's blood boil; _her_ father a traitor to the republic? How dare _he_? This man may have defeated her father but how could he be so _hypocritical_? He was a _dictator_ and yet he claimed he was fighting for the republic! She glared as he went on, "Everything, his will, his money and property will all be declared void and will go towards the people of Rome."

"You mean spoils for your soldiers?" Porcia said with a razor tongue.

Caesar sat straight, linking his fingers and regarding the pretty young woman seriously, "You have no right to speak to me like that, madam. It is because I insisted on saving you that you sit here now, that you are still breathing. As for you father, brave though his death was, did no favours to the republic; towards the end even he didn't believe in it."

"It is more then you ever did for it!"

"By continuing to oppose me your father and Scipio both cost the lives of hundreds more men, men who didn't need to die."

"And by crossing the Rubicon and matching on Rome, you cost the lives of thousands of men as well as the lives of Pompey, Scipio and my father, none of whom needed to die," Porcia replied, so firmly that Caesar was impressed. Cato's daughter had always seemed such a quiet and restrained lady who was taught as a girl to never speak unless spoken to. But give this girl had something to argue for; and she kept fighting. Had she been a man, she would have made a great magistrate. She sat back; her very dark grey eyes glanced to the side for a moment before looking to Caesar again. "I don't care what grand titles you have, I don't care whether you are dictator or king; I will speak to you how I feel you should be spoken to. Although," she then began, looking away from Caesar, "I am grateful for your sending Vorenus and Pullo to rescue me."

Caesar just looked at her; this was a woman who didn't care much for authority, especially since that authority was Caesar. It was a pity too. Had she been the daughter of a man other then Cato, had she not been such a fierce republican, devoted stoic and hosted such bitter hate for him as the man who she felt threatened those principles she had, she would have made him a perfect wife. He decided then that he might ask Calpurnia to befriend this little spark—he needed to attach this fiery creature to someone he was close to, or else she might attach herself to his enemies.

Cato maybe dead, but his ideas were not and Porcia was still a strong talking point for Pompey's allies who held her in the highest regard. If she were to remarry to one of his enemies, he had no doubt that the republican party would be reinforced and Caesar knew he would have to play his cards right in order to slip past their opposition. Besides, what was the worst the Catonian faction could do? Attack him with book buckets? Spit Zeno down his ear?

Caesar was deep in thought but it didn't stop him from answering, "I crossed the Rubicon to protect my rights."

"_Your_ rights, yes; but it was not Rome's rights" she replied.

"That is a matter of opinion, my dear"

"Your have broken every capital law I can think of, and that makes you no better then Sulla; and you were the victim of Sulla. How could you be so like him? The fact that you humiliate your enemies by offering them mercy rather then taking their lives is also unfair—"

Caesar made a small smile, "It was my mercy that saved Brutus' life. By my order he was spared; would you think more of me if I had killed him?"

Something hit Porcia at that moment—she knew he had her trapped there, and he knew it too. He knew that as Brutus' cousin, Porcia would naturally have to agree that she would rather him be alive then dead. But it was more then that—he was more then a cousin to her; deep in her heart, Porcia knew that she loved him, deeply. How much she loved him even she didn't know and in what manner she loved him she was too modest to admit. All she could do was stare at Caesar, whose never changing expression had triumph written all over it, and change the subject back to her father.

"Don't blame my father for this war," Porcia replied firmly, "And don't blame Pompey or the senate, either. You declared war by crossing the Rubicon, therefore the lives of these men, be them noble or plebeian; are on your head."

At that, Porcia stood and excused herself as politely as her anger allowed. Truth was she wished to get away from Caesar as quickly as possible… before he managed to trap her again with his clever words. _Damn, Caesar! Damn him to Hades!_

-

Caesar had assured Porcia's family that as soon as he had retrieved her, he would send news to Rome and let them know straight away that she was safe. Well, Servilia had thought that _wonderful_ and had voiced her feelings in the most sarcastic way possible at the time. While Marcus was gulping his honey water down and wishing that he was drinking something stronger, Brutus shrank into his thoughts and feelings and doused his thirst with mild-tasting wine. He was thinking of Porcia again. There was no denying that he was worried, but his worry was more then that of a dutiful cousin. He couldn't exactly remember when his feelings changed but they had, and he just wanted to curl into a ball and sink into them. He was almost too shy to admit them. He wanted to see her, feeling that if he saw her, then he'd know what his feelings were. He feared her reaction to him; what would she say, after all she's been through, and would she blame him for not helping her?

Porcia also felt as if she was burning from the inside. The scorching feeling that ran through her chest was bothering her. She hoped that no one in her family would mind her returning to what was once the family unit. She worried about seeing Servilia again, and even Claudia for some reason, but above all she was worried about seeing Brutus again. She felt so worried that she would come off as a fool when they saw each other; she decided to close her eyes and put up a protective barrier. She would face them the same way she had faced Caesar, show them one face when she really wanted to show another.

Upon arriving at the house, the family all awaited her in the courtyard. As she stepped out onto the Roman soil again, she felt safe and secure. She turned and forced a smile to her family, and her brother Marcus rushed up. Whisking her off her feet into his huge hug, Porcia was relieved not to smell the odour of wine on him. He placed her feet to the ground and kissed her cheek in a loving, brother way; "Sister, I'm so happy to see you home safely; all of Rome has been very worried about you."

Porcia laughed, "Well, I don't think that is true but all that matters to me is that you cared. I feel awful about you worrying though, brother. I didn't think I'd have you too worried…"

"Well, you did!" Junia Tertia, who the family called Tertulla, said rushing forward to throw her arms around her cousin. Although the most spoilt out of Servilia's daughters, she was always the sweetest and the prettiest. She and Secunda were the only two out of Brutus' sisters who had come to see their cousin's return. Prima wouldn't have come; after her affairs with freedmen and slaves, Servilia disowned her. Ironically, Servilia used Tertulla as a prostitute so the rumours said. It was hard to imagine this bundle of loveliness was the same girl Servilia forced to sleep with men for their family's good. Tertulla kissed Porcia's cheek and smiled, "I missed you so much, cousin; I was devastated that you missed my wedding. I wanted to wait until they found you but I couldn't. Forgive me!"

"Of course I forgive you!" Porcia replied, happy to receive a much warmer welcome then she had expected; her smiles and laughter were much more genuine. "Caesar told me that you married Cassius."

Tertulla grabbed one of her honey wheat blonde flanks and nodded, "Yes—I did."

"Is it that bad?" Porcia whispered in her ear.

"Not as bad as you think," Tertulla replied with a sweet smile, wrapping her hair around her fingers, "He is a good man."

Secunda didn't greet Porcia with the same enthusiasm as her younger sister did. The selfish, fiery red-head was almost an equal to Atia of the Julii when it came to her lovers that even Servilia was starting to consider blocking her out like she did Prima. Then again, Secunda wasn't very fond of her mother and decided to block her out most of the time. When they were together they always fought. Secunda enjoyed having fights and most of them were with her husband, Lepidus. She was also a shamelessly adulterous wife and yet it bothered her that Lepidus didn't care. In front of the public eye, both greeted Porcia with a simple nod, and Lepidus said with a simple smile, "It is good to see you safe."

"Thank you, Lepidus," Porcia replied in the same simple manner.

"Yes," Secunda said, leaning forward quickly to peck her on the cheek, "Very good to see you were not spoilt or killed." Lepidus glared at Secunda who returned the glare, "We are all happy to see you," she then added.

"Hmmm," Porcia replied in a sarcastic but nice way, "I can see you two most of all."

Marcus and Tertulla looked at each other and laughed, as Lepidus and Secunda both blushed. However, their laughing stopped when Porcia found herself face to face with her Aunt Servilia. This was a woman who hated her in private but would be kind in public, and Porcia hated this hypocrisy. She put up with it as Servilia placed her hands on Porcia's shoulders and brought her close for a simple embrace. When it was broken they looked at each other without expression before Servilia forced a poisonous smile, "It is good to see you safe, niece."

"Thank you," Porcia replied, unable to force even a small smile. She looked past Servilia and saw behind her both Brutus and Claudia. Her emotions began to bubble and a great longing started to tug at her stomach. Although she was longing to greet Brutus straight away, she decided that it was better to vent her emotions on Claudia. She had to keep telling herself that Claudia was Brutus' wife. So, she brushed past Servilia and embraced her cousin's estranged wife.

Claudia looked older; she was twenty-seven-years-old but she looked over thirty. Her light blonde hair was showing signs of greying already, but because she was so fair you didn't notice. She was thinner and there were lines starting to appear on her face. Yet, she was still a pretty woman. Porcia knew just from the look on her face that she still had no children; she felt so guilty, she knew how much Claudia craved children but didn't have them, and her guilty feeling was made up of the odd, passionate feelings she had for Claudia's husband. Porcia broke the embrace and managed to force a smile this time.

"Claudia, you look well," she said.

"Well enough, I suppose" the woman replied with a smile that showed a lot of personal suffering, "It's been so long, over two years. I am happy you are safe, Porcia. We've all been very worried about you but none more so then Brutus." She said this turning her head to her husband, who looked at Porcia. When Porcia's eyes met his, he couldn't help smiling. It was the first truly genuine smile she had received from any of her family.

Porcia rushed up to him, over come with emotion, and threw her arms around his neck. It had been so long since she had given him a hug. The last time they had embraced was that morning after Pompey's defeat when Porcia decided to remain, letting both Cicero and Brutus go to Caesar to surrender their arms to him. This embrace was different from that embrace though; the feelings that had come alive between them had not been identified properly. This time, their breaths were taken away by this overwhelming feeling of love, but still they were too shy to admit it.

When it was finally broken, Porcia looked at him with a true smile before daring to lean forward and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek: "I'm so happy to see you, Brutus. I've missed you."

"I've missed you too…" he cleared his throat awkwardly, seeing his mother's eyes glaring at them knowingly, "We've all missed you… All of Rome prayed for your safety…"

Porcia smiled, "Yes… And I'm grateful to all of you; and to the gods for saving my life." She turned back to Brutus, swallowing her strong feelings she felt for him, refusing to acknowledge them, "It seems as though you are now the head of my family, Brutus. I hope I will not come as a disappointment to you, so much that you feel the need to punish me as most men do their wards."

"Never," Brutus suddenly burst out, taking the punishment line too seriously. He blushed slightly when Tertulla and Marcus laughed again, "What I mean is, you could never disappoint our family… You are a model on which all of us should follow, a great example of what our family stands for…"

Porcia placed her hand on Brutus' shoulder, which made him shut up straight away. She found it hard to hold it still; touching him made her feel nervous, "Silly cousin Brutus, you haven't changed a bit, have you? I am glad. I wouldn't have you any other way."

He placed his hand on hers and smiled, it was good to see her still the same after all she had been through, "Nor I you."

"Where is Auntie Porcia?"

Brutus looked down, slightly disappointed that she had changed the subject so quickly, "She isn't feeling very well at the moment; she's been through an awful lot too. She sends her love."

"And I should return mine," Porcia said, recovered from her emotions and starting to think logically again, "I shall go and see her to let her know I'm alright."

"Oh no," Tertulla said rushing to her cousin's side, "You must rest first; you've been through so much and I want to talk to you about something. I have the most exciting news!"

-

Once Porcia was in the house, life tried to carry on as normal for the rest of the day. Porcia and Tertulla talked, before both ladies went off to visit their Auntie Porcia, whom they called Auntie Cella. Cassius came sometime after they left and Brutus told him the story of Porcia's return. He listened with keen interest before he apologised for not being there to greet her, only he had a lot to sort out before he left for the provinces. In order to put away his feelings for Porcia, Brutus began talking about everything that he and Cicero had talked of a few days ago. This was an issue that Cassius liked; he stared at his young brother-in-law, "If you were to lead the Optimates, it would please your mother."

Brutus laughed, "I pull a hair for what will please my mother, as she gives a fig for what is best for me."

"And Porcia," the older man went on, hoping to hit the jugular, "I'm sure she will be disappointed to find that her new _pater familias _pulls a hair for the ideals that her father spoon fed her all her life."

"_Pater familias_, what are you talking about?"

"Well, with Cato dead you are now head of the Junian-Porcii family."

"I am?"

"Of course you are!" Cassius replied, finding it hard to believe that his friend was so slow today. Ever since he so obviously fell in love with Porcia, Cassius had noticed the difference and feared that the young and witty patrician had begun to live up to his name. The name Brutus did after all mean 'slow-witted'. "Cato's will is void so control of the family falls to the eldest male, IE: _you_. It will be you who will have to house Porcia or find a house for her to live in; she belongs to you now."

Brutus scowled, "Stop speaking of her as if she were a piece of meat!"

"I was trying to be artistic" Cassius replied defensively, "The one woman you want in the entire world and you are her head of family. She belongs to you already and yet you cannot own her heart…"

"Be quiet, old friend!" Brutus snapped, "I don't _love_ her. I am _fond_ of her; she is my favourite cousin."

"You have forgotten our talk in the senate?"

"Certainly not, and I didn't care much for it; both you and Cicero were making assumptions that just aren't true!" the young man replied protectively, wishing that this endless teasing would come to an end, "She is my half-cousin; my first cousin. She grew up in my house and had the same teachers as Tertulla. She and I share the same grandmother, Livia Drusa, so we are both of the same blood."

"Your point being…"

"Fifty years ago it would have been incest…"

"We aren't living fifty years ago; we're living now" Cassius replied, he leaned over to Brutus, "She is Cato's daughter, you couldn't hope for a better wife and that fool Appius Claudius died last month so you could divorce Claudia. Cato once offered you Porcia, didn't he?" Brutus' head shot a stare at him, "He told me all about it, he also told me you refused. Why did you refuse marriage with her then? Don't tell me it was incest that troubled you."

Brutus sat back and mused, "She was only twelve. She was innocent. She was immature."

"You're not exactly grown-up yourself."

"I meant _physically_ immature, and I couldn't marry a girl whose greatest pleasure at being married was that she was able to have her own house and not live with my mother," Brutus explained.

Cassius had to admit defeat. He stood and explained that he had only really dropped in to say goodbye before leaving with Tertulla for the provinces. She was pregnant too, and naturally there were hopes for a boy. "Well… I suppose I'll just have to leave you to it, but you should consider divorce from Claudia, before Porcia returns. When does she return?"

"She said she'd be back later…" Brutus said with a lump in his throat, "And as for Claudia, I have no grounds to just divorce her. You know I don't, and her brother is just as bad as her father. In fact he's worse; he's my father-in-law sober and with brains!"

"So, you're just going to ignore your feelings?"

Brutus' heart burnt as if it were lying on live coals, but he wouldn't admit it, "What _feelings_ do you mean?"

Cassius rolled his eyes before patting his brother-in-law on the shoulder and matching off home to wait for Tertia.

-

One had never come to appreciate the dusk before; one had never come to look in amazement at the form as the dark shadows fell over it, as the sky sported a complete spectrum of colours; purple, orange, dark blue and pink. The market was settling down, and the tradesmen packed up their goods and slept quietly on the stalls. Others took their goods away, leaving the wide open space quiet and deserted but for the street cleans, matching in-line with each other, sweeping away the leaves, the rubbish and whatever else lay in the way. In the gardens, the trees were moved by a gentle breeze; the peaceful sound was enchanting to those who stopped to appreciate it. There was nothing like an autumn evening in Rome.

Brutus sat alone at the end of the garden overlooking the forum below, looking up from his book now and then to view. It was longest he had gone for quite a while without thinking about Porcia. When he thought that, he kicked himself for breaking that concentration by thinking about her.

"So this is where you're hiding?"

Brutus' head shot up and his heart braced when he saw Porcia come walking down the path beside him. She smiled and he cleared his throat, "Yes, I like it here because it is peaceful. It is also away from my mother's coldness."

"Why is she treating you coldly?"

"Because I didn't go with your father to Africa or kill myself when the battle was lost," he explained.

Porcia nodded, "I missed talking to you, you know." He looked back up and her, and she smiled again, "I felt very lonely."

"Did you?"

"I even cried."

His face became guilty, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't be, it was my fault," she said, "It was my choice to go with you and Cicero and for it I paid the price." It was strange how she said she paid the price; Brutus thought maybe she was just sad that her choice to stay with her father had turned out so badly. Either way, she wasn't angry at him for not doing more to help her so that assured him. Porcia walked closer to the garden's edge and viewed the enchanting sight before her: "I'd forgotten how beautiful the view of Rome was," Porcia said with a peaceful sigh, admiring the beauty, wishing to take it in with every drawing breath. It had been many years, two or three, since she had last seen Rome. "How could I have forgotten, Brutus?"

"We forget a lot of things when a long time passes"

"Ah, that must be it then."

It pained her to think of those who never saw it again; her father Cato, and the others Scipio, Pompey… It pained her deeply to think these men died without ever having stood on Palatine hill and looked on the forum as it settled for the night. Porcia would do it often as a child; though she didn't remember much of her childhood, she had always blanked it from her mind; but Brutus remembered. The sudden image of a nine—ten-year-old girl sitting on the very edge of the garden, literally over the forum (if you fell off it was to your death), without fear and watching the people shuffle away. By the time she left Servilia's household, she knew where everything in the forum was.

Porcia lent hard against a tree, letting it support her whole body; it was the same tree she had been stuck in over ten years ago when she hid up there to escape Prima and Secunda. She closed her eyes and rested her head against its trunk before opening her eyes again and looking up to the branches. She smiled and suddenly said, "Do you think I could still climb this tree?"

"You'd get stuck and end up landing on me again when I try to help you down," he replied with a grin.

"I'd probably break your back if you were to try and catch me now."

"I doubt that, you're still a scrawny little thing!"

Porcia placed her hands on her hips and pretended that she was insulted, although it worried her that he thought her skinny. It was bad enough that the women laughed at her figure without Brutus laughing too, "I am not '_a scrawny little thing_', Brutus!"

He looked up to admire her figure. It was hard to look at her face without feeling awkward let alone having his attention drawn to the rest of her. Although she wasn't at all plump and very curvy like the ideal Roman woman was, Porcia wasn't as skinny as she thought she was or he had implied with his teasing. He looked away quickly, not allowing himself to admire her figure in any more detail lest he'd give into his overwhelming desire to touch her.

"You're right," he finally said, clearing his throat, "Forgive me, I was only teasing. You are not at all scrawny… I merely meant that you would do little damage if you fell on me. You seem quite nymph-like."

Porcia smiled, "Apology accepted." She then span on her toes and fell into the seat beside him, causing Brutus to shift a little, his feelings trying to cope with that fact that she was merely five inches away from him. He looked at his book, finding it hard to make sense of the words. Porcia saw this and spoke up, "What are you reading?"

"I don't actually know," he managed, deciding not to look at her, "I found it in an unmarked book bucket."

"Let me have a look," she said, clearing her throat. She lent over his shoulder to see, just as she had done when she was a girl, although this time it was different. She feared that getting too close would make her heart beat more rapid, her breath would become faster, that every muscle in her body would tense… Yet it wasn't a scary feeling, it was a good feeling. _Oh this strange emotion!_ She felt as if she was dying; she had read once that some people experience a great feeling of pleasure before they die. But she couldn't lie to herself anymore; she had never felt this passionate about anyone before, and she knew exactly what this emotion was; she was in love.

Her heart fluttered wildly in triumph; it was the first time her mind had come to terms with it. She was in love. Had she not been inches away from him and if he were not a married man, she felt as if she might have said it to herself and drowned herself in a fit of pleasurable, hysterical laughter. With the acceptance of this feeling, she had to fight a strange desire to lean closer to him and lay her head on his shoulder. As a young girl she would have done that innocently and he would have thought nothing of it; he might not think anything of it now, but the fear of his reaction stopped her from daring to touch him.

_You're being silly_, her inner demons told her; she shifted slightly as she tried to read but couldn't from her musing mind. _You're going about this the wrong way…Who is to say that you need to be virtuous all the time? What is the harm of getting just a little closer, he won't think much of it…Or maybe he will? This is the only chance you'll have to find out! _

At that moment, another voice spoke up, the paranoia of Porcia, appearing in a fit of laughter: _Oh don't be silly; what makes you think that will change anything? Do you want him to think you a stupid fool? Do you want to ruin the home you have left by embarrassing yourself in front of the head of your family? Face it; you are strange and pathetic… That's why your Aunt Servilia hates you so much, that is why no one really likes you; they just feel sorry for you. _

Again, her confidence spoke up, angered that Porcia had allowed herself to think such rubbish: _Oh please, now you're just flattering yourself; the only reason Servilia picks on you is because she is a pathetic woman with nothing better to do. Stop playing little miss goodie-two-shoes all the time! Even Vestals have more romantic and sexual impulses then you're giving yourself credit for… Just get a little closer… See what happens, if he has nothing to hide then nothing will happen and he'll think it nothing more then a cousinly touch… _

Porcia moved closer, daring to brush her arm against his. She felt him brace against her, and her eyes she straight away looked to his face; his eyes were closed and he sat straight, unnaturally, deep in thought, as if he too was having a conversation with his inner voice.

Brutus didn't know how much longer he could take the flow of emotions surging through his veins. He couldn't lie about it anymore; he was so desperately in love with her and yet so restrained by his morals and her morals. The fact that he was married meant very little to him, but the fact that it was Porcia did. It had nothing to do with her being his cousin, or any previous relationship he may have had with her, being her guardian during her twelve years of pain under his mother's charge. It was her morality, and his morality.

Porcia read what was going through his mind, trouble was written all over his face, and she realised that it was down to her to let him know that she understood. It was something of an achievement—once she had said that it was impossible to know what Brutus was thinking, now she was starting to understand what he was thinking. It was difficult to know how to expose it though—she was just a shy as he was.

She placed her hands over his and they held the stroll together. His hands were shaking, and inside his skin burnt as she kept hold of them, "I think I understand what it is now."

He cleared his throat and looked to her, "Do you?"

She nodded and looked at him. Their faces inches away from each other and moments away from touching, "Yes, I understand everything now. Everything…" They stared at each other for what felt like eternity but was little more then a few seconds. Then, suddenly, Porcia took the greatest gamble of her life; she placed her hands on his face, leaned forwards and their lips touched. She could hardly believe what she was doing; never hard she thought she was capable of making such a move towards a man. Her shyness had always prevented her from it and her father had always told her that if she were to fall in love she was weak and that if she were to commit adultery, he would kill her. Obviously she had never shared such passion or intimacy with her old man Bibulus, but her talent was very good for an innocent young woman.

Upon feeling her beautiful mouth connect with his, Brutus was naturally taken by surprise at Porcia sudden, nearly out of place move on him. From the moment they touched, his heart leapt, his blood burnt and his emotions rouse so quickly that his natural instinct over took his morals. He dropped the book and placed arms around her, pulling her closer to him, finally giving in to his earlier craving. It came as a surprise also to discover other emotions surface along side the burning love he was already feeling. He felt a great ecstasy, one like he had never felt before and never thought he would feel.

The mass of emotions crushed both of them as they discovered that they were no longer alone; they had each other, both had been feeling so lonely, rejected, unloved, and finally they had found someone else to fill that void in their hearts. For both of them, every muscle in their bodies just seemed to fail, if they didn't have the other to hold on to, they felt as if they might die.

Abruptly, Brutus stopped and stared at her; every nerve in his body was crying out for more but his morality once again took ground and he forced himself to stop. Guilt stopped him from taking it any further, he felt as if he were taking advantage of her. Despite the fact that it had been Porcia who begun it and given in to raging emotions, he felt it a duty to stop it, even if he didn't want to. Hastily he stood and looked down at Porcia who was more bewildered at what she had just done, rather then shocked at his choice to put an end to it. Scared of what he'd say or what she would say, Brutus, in a very untactful manner, rushed off towards the house, leaving Porcia to watch after him—shocked.

Porcia's shock had nothing to do with morality or her virtue. In fact, she was shocked at how willing she had just been to break it. She was mortified at the fact that she was not ashamed of her actions towards him but rather pleased and even entranced by the fact that she had found pleasure in her actions. She felt guilty to admit one thing though; had he not stopped it when he did, she was positive that she would have given herself to him fully, and without shame.

-

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_So there is chapter 11, I hope you all liked it and I will start on chapter 12 on Monday or as soon as it takes to get some plot feedback from all of you. Although your praise is lovely, your "hopes" for what you want to happen next some spark a few extra ideas for the story. Your hopeful reviews mean more to be then just a "I read the story, great/rubbish", it is a source of ideas._

_Thank you again._

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	12. 2: Decessio

_Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome (PS: Yes, I use this as a heading) _

We all know that Atia of HBO is nothing like the historical Atia, so I have filled in a charming fictional tale about her. That is one thing I cannot be accurate about, damnable Atia. I recently started reading "Lolita"… I had no idea the famous words "light of my life, fire of my loins" came from that… I mean everyone knows that term, don't they?

**UPDATE: I would like to thank Laurie, one of the reviewers, for being my proof reader. You are an angel! **

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Upon his return to Rome, Caesar was received differently by everyone. A majority of the patricians and rich men of Rome who had supported Cato, who stood for the principles of the Roman republic, did not greet Caesar on his return. To the Catonian Romans, Cato was a martyr for Rome. Cicero was among the men who believed this, although he was a _novus homo_, he was stonewall republican and finally published a lovely piece on Cato, praising his lifestyle and his bravery. Naturally, this did not go down well with the mob or Caesar, who already planned to write a reply. After all, everyone who was a plebeian rejoiced and made various attempts to 'suck-up' to him. While some painted noble doodles of him all over the walls celebrating his triumph over his great enemy Cato, others put on shows, depicting humorous and offensive mimes of Cato and Scipio's deaths, treating it as if it was a pantomime rather then a noble way to die. Naturally when Atia offered Salvito and Marcus a chance to see this filth they declined. Brutus on the other hand, beckoned to go by Caesar, was forced to watch the death of his uncle acted out on stage.

"Brutus?" Claudia said when he returned, her sewing hanging over her arm, "Are you all right? You seem troubled. Are you unwell?"

_Just a little love sick_, he thought. He blocked his thoughts out and forced a smile, "I do feel slightly off, my dear, but nothing too serious."

"If you feel unwell you should see a doctor," she went on.

"This is nothing a doctor can cure," he whispered quietly to himself before shaking his head, "That is not necessary, Claudia. I am quite fit. I have other things to deal with too, if you'll excuse me." He lent over and gave her a short, simple kiss on the cheek.

He felt so guilty; he had been face to face with his wife, a wife with whom he had about as intimate a relationship as Porcia once had with Bibulus, and he had kissed her on the cheek while thinking of another woman. What made it worse was that he was impressed that he had been devious enough to look Claudia in the face and lie to her. While his mouth said assuring words, his mind was off else where thinking of Porcia, yearning for her cheek to kiss, her lips.

He wondered whether his wife knew deep down that he was besotted with another woman. It wasn't fair to lie to Claudia, he knew that, but it was all he could do until he sorted things out with Porcia. After all, how could any man be open with his wife, even an indifferent one, about his secret desire for his own cousin?

_She'd think I was going mad! _Brutus thought to himself. He cleared his throat and thought again: _I feel as if I'm going mad… I've never, ever taken pleasure in flesh. Never felt the longing to hold a woman in my arms. Never felt the burning of carnal lust. Philosophy and literature were always my lovers, just as they were to Porcia. _He felt guilty and pleased at the same time. Though he felt guilty about desiring and loving her so ardently and hiding it away from everyone else, he liked the feelings he was experiencing, feelings which he knew could be rewarded.

Atia was taking to her new place as the true first woman in Rome with open arms and invited the entire of Cato's living family for dinner, no doubt to gloat. The party itself was disguised as a welcome home party for Octavian, who had finally returned home from school. All who lived under Brutus' roof were told and each one of them was unhappy. Servilia had given him an evil, cold look, prepared to get ready for the dinner and determined to outdo Atia. Claudia had stared at him and claimed illness, asking him to send her apologises. Marcus said he had "better things to do then be part of that bitch Atia's game" and Porcia just ignored him, stating that she was going out.

"I'm going to visit Auntie Porcia." Porcia said quickly

"When will you be back?" Brutus asked quietly

"I'll be back later." she replied indifferently

Brutus' heart tugged painfully in his chest at this sudden coldness and he felt a sickly lump in his throat knowing that it was his fault she was feeling like this. Ever since that evening when they had kissed and he had run off suddenly, Porcia had been distancing herself from him. He didn't know whether it was embarrassment or a natural reaction. He'd never actually seen Porcia like this before.

"Porcia…" he began for the seventh time that day, "Listen, I…"

"I'll see you all later," she said pulling her veil over her head. For one brief moment she looked at him. She saw the painful look in his eyes and she nearly melted with deep, emotional love. Had the handle of the door not been in her duenna Sylvia's hand, she might have leant forward and kissed him as she had the other day. The same emotion bubbled up from beneath her skin, burning her as she felt the desire to touch him. Sylvia noticed this and closed the door, creating a wall between the pair and Porcia had disappeared before Brutus' eyes.

He attempted to push the woman out of his mind for a moment as he strode off back into the house. The evening was in and the masks of the ancestors were lit up, glowing on the walls and giving a feeling of authority to the room. They were the masters and those who lived within the walls they had built were just the living for now, waiting for the day when they too would hang on the walls and look down on those who moved.

Brutus went to his mother's door and called in, "Please, mother. We will be late."

Servilia gave a frustrated sigh, wishing that she had the nerve to fake illness, or go and visit her sick sister. She hated her sister but she'd rather see her then see Atia.

"Oh, we must not be _late_!" she said sarcastically, "That would _never_ do!"

-

Lyde walked down the steps of the block of rooms in which her sister and her family lived. Being the younger sister born under an unlucky sign no one expected her to come of much. Niobe was always the more beautiful and more auspicious of the two, which made her a more popular choice for a wife. Since their family had been poor though, they couldn't afford good husbands. Niobe married the orphaned Lucius Vorenus, who luckily had a good horoscope, and Lyde married the local butcher's son, Evander, who was not even a proper Roman—his mother had been a Greek slave. Lyde couldn't remember why on earth she had loved Evander so; he was never any good and made her life miserable with his trying to take advantage of her supposedly widowed elder sister. Now her relationship with Niobe was restored and all she could do was hate her dead husband…

As she walked into the courtyard, she passed Pullo, who was writing his name over and over on a piece of old paper. Vorenus was, rather childishly, sword fighting with Lucius and Niobe was rolling her eyes at the pair. Lyde handed the papers to her and laughed, "I must say, it is nice to see the family bonding so much."

"It is," Niobe replied with a smile. She glanced up at Vorenus and sighed, "I wish he'd get a job though. He looks bored."

"Why doesn't he help out at the shop?" Lyde asked, checking the numbers.

"I asked him but he has an obsession with not getting involved in shops or trade," Niobe replied, "Not after what happened to the statue of Divine Janus."

"Which was my fault," Lyde went on, glancing over to him, "I suppose I'm lucky he lets me in the house now."

"You know what Vorenus is like."

Pullo looked up and smiled, "Say, Lyde, can you write your name?"

Lyde titled her head, "Of course I can."

"Could you write Eirene's name, if you had to?"

"Certainly"

"Can you write it down for me?"

Lyde took the paper and wrote it down: E-I-R-E-N-E, "Here."

"Thank you, my dove" he replied with a smile. He couldn't forget everything Porcia had done to help him write his name, and he wanted to practise as much as he could so it wouldn't fall out of his head. He began to write Niobe's name, Eirene's name, Lyde's name, Vorenus' name and so on, trying to teach himself to write properly.

Lyde looked to Niobe and laughed, "What's wrong with him? Vorenus told me that a young patrician girl taught him how to write his name."

"She did," Niobe replied, "They rescued a young patrician woman who was taken hostage. And, somewhere along the road, she taught him how to write his name, literally."

"Well I didn't think you could teach it metaphorically!" Lyde replied with a small laugh.

"No, I mean she wrote it on the road!"

Walking through the archway into the courtyard of the Vorenii and their neighbours' was a woman dressed completely in grey and black who was clutching a piece of paper to her. She looked about, cleared her throat, and said as loud as she could, "Does Titus Pullo live here?"

Pullo looked up from his scribbles and recognised the woman straight away. It was Sylvia. He stood and bounded up to her like a happy dog with a smile on his face, "Sylvia, the Lady Porcia's woman. What are you doing here?"

"My mistress wanted to give you and Vorenus something in return for helping her," Sylvia explained, pulling her shawl about her, "She told me to give you this money." She handed the purse to Pullo. He took it, but holding it felt wrong. He looked at Sylvia who smiled, "Try to spend it wisely."

"Oh, we will" Pullo replied with a smile, "And tell her thank you."

"Wait!" Sylvia said, worried that Pullo would walk off. She handed him the piece of paper and said, "It's a letter. If you find it hard to read, then get someone else to read it to you."

Pullo smiled sheepishly, clutching the paper in his hands now, "Thank you, Sylvia."

Sylvia nodded, turned her back, and made her way out of the courtyard and back to the Palatine. It had been strange being on the Aventine—the differences between the two hills were very obvious.

Pullo turned back into the courtyard and tried to read the letter. He thought he understood it, but he wanted to make sure. He walked over to Vorenus and smiled. "Say, Vorenus… the slave woman of Porcia's came to give us some money for helping her."

Vorenus looked up and spoke gruffly, "We were under orders. I hope you gave it back."

"She walked off before I could," Pullo explained, he then thrust the letter into Vorenus' hand, "She gave me this too."

Vorenus opened the letter and read it out loud, "_Pullo, again I'd like to thank you and Vorenus for helping me. This money is just a fraction of my gratitude. If you ever need a favour then please let me know._"

Pullo smiled, "She's all right, isn't she?"

"Pullo, she is a patrician woman," Vorenus replied sternly, "You will speak of her with respect."

The brutish man threw his head back in laughter, "Normally I'd agree with you; but we're not under the standard anymore, are we?"

-

Porcia arrived at her Aunt Porcia's house not long after Brutus had left the house; after all she was not far away from the house of the Junii. Cato had been a firm believer in the family unit, so the Porcii, the Junii, the Livii, and the other houses under his control were close together. To get to Aunt Porcia's house, you just had to walk past the Junii household and the old Porcii house (now up for sale since Caesar had taken all that was Cato's as spoils) and there was the house of Aunt Porcia's old husband, who had sadly died in the civil wars.

It was confusing for the family to have two Porcias, just as it was hard to cope with the fact there were two Servilias and three Junias. While the younger Porcia was the one who kept her name, the aunt would sometimes call her a range of nicknames, not to tell her apart from herself, but as a sign of endearment. She had always loved Porcia the most of all her nieces (in contrast to her elder sister Servilia, who had always hated her niece with a great passion.)

Aunt Porcia had gained many names from friends and family. She was Cella to some, Cia to others, and sometimes Salonia. But Porcia always called her Auntie Porcia. Aunt Porcia was the youngest daughter of Livia Drusa. She resembled her mother with her long auburn hair and huge eyes. She had a strong nose and large eyes to match, and despite getting on in years, she was still a beautiful woman.

She had not been well since the passing of her husband and her return to Rome. Caesar himself had offered her greetings upon his return; greetings that she felt like spitting on. As well as holding up a good friendship with Cicero, she was the one of Cato's sisters who he was happy to say was his sister. Both Servilia and Servililla had been adulterous wives, and they had shamed the family greatly, none more so then Lilla. In return for her virtue, Porcia was loved by her husband, her brothers, her nieces and her nephews, so much so that it didn't matter if her elder sisters hated her. The middle-aged woman was kind in nature, well read and enjoyed the company of her dear niece, her little walking library.

When Porcia came through the door, the aunt broke into a great smile and held her arms out for her. She couldn't stand from the pain in her feet and her legs. Porcia rushed over and gave her a great hug, her heart filled with happiness at seeing her aunt. Through a painful and traumatic childhood, only Aunt Porcia had pulled Porcia through the darkness and offered some light. Well, her and Brutus. Porcia didn't want to think of Brutus; it made her heart burn as if she has swallowed a live coal.

"Little Porcia," the aunt said softly.

"Auntie, I'm so happy to see you!"

"You just saw me the other day," the aunt replied, gesturing her niece into a seat.

She looked at Porcia with a motherly eye; _she is such a beautiful girl_, she thought. Little Porcia's multi-tonal eyes and long wavy hair flowing down to her waist were great things to admire. Her bright smile was warm and friendly; her pale skin was soft and unflawed. _One draw back is her figure; her clothes are so miserable that it draws attention from what it hides, and even then it appears lank. _She wasn't exactly the ideal beautiful woman when it came to her figure as she was petite and dainty. Then again, how could anyone expect her to be as beautifully curved as some of the women in Rome when she had not yet carried children? Her body was the body of a virgin, or at least one that had not yet filled out its purpose in life.

_If I were a man, _Aunt Porcia wondered; _could I have desired her or loved her? _She wanted to see her little Porcia married again, this time to someone she could love and preferably, to someone younger then Bibulus; someone not old enough to be her grandfather!

She had a sweet and gentle nature all her life, even as a child, and although she could be bad tempered and would throw tantrums, she had been somewhat of a nymphet who Bibulus had adored so much that he dared not touch her, or divorce her to allow the perverted senators of Rome to touch her. He had wished to keep her innocent and pure. Whether that had been because of the reaction to his two adulterous wives or the shock at being married to a young girl, Aunt Porcia had never known. Her only knowledge of Bibulus had been through her husband, Lucius, who had been good friends with the man.

_What a pity that Porcia had never learnt to love; learnt to love Bibulus even, or be grateful for his protection, at least_, Aunt Porcia thought regarding her niece, _any man certainly could desire her but he'd be the luckiest man in the world if she could love him. _

"I'm always happy to see you, Auntie" Porcia replied, leaning over to give her aunt a kiss on the cheek. She sat back and said solemnly, "You are the only person in the world who I feel truly cares about me."

They sat and ate together though neither felt they could eat much. Aunt Porcia watched as her young niece carefully picked at the one piece she was eating bit by bit. She finally spoke up, "Still eating like a bird, are we?"

Porcia looked up, "I've never been much of an eater and you know that."

"You should eat more," her aunt went on, "It isn't healthy for a young woman to eat so meagrely. Look at you!" At her order Porcia looked down at her figure as her aunt went on, "You don't eat enough and that's why you're so meagre."

"I'm not meagre!" Porcia whined, "Petite is more fitting."

Aunt Porcia laughed, "Meagre, petite, small, dainty, willowy, what's the difference? If you stood in direction of the wind you'd blow away like a dead dandelion!"

"I'm just not a big eater and I can't change now" Porcia said again. She watched her aunt who had barely touched her food, "What about you? You aren't well, you should be eating more then I should."

Aunt Porcia sighed, "I am not well and will die sooner then you will, therefore I can take the risk of small eating." She decided to put her comments to rest and they sat silently for a while until Porcia finished her peach and her aunt went on, "Life at Servilia's house isn't proving too difficult for you, is it? She isn't hurting you again, is she?"

"No, no!" Porcia said, raising her hand and shaking her head, "No, apart from a few cold looks and shoving past me when we meet in corridors she hasn't done anything. I suppose I'm too big for the cupboard now…" she said with light-humour.

"It isn't funny, Porcia!" Aunt Porcia sternly said, she held her head sorrowfully and shook it guiltily, "If only I had known then, I could have done something about it. How could my brother have left you there with that wicked woman?" she turned to face Porcia, "Promise me that if she ever touches you again you will tell me straight away."

"I promise," Porcia said, though she doubted she would keep that promise. She sighed and thought of Brutus again and how awkward she felt being around him. She wanted to talk to him but she was terrified of what he would say. She also knew it was stupid to avoid him like this, but for the time being, it felt like the easiest thing to do. "I'm just finding it hard to cope with living in that house again, you know I have very few memories of my childhood, I don't actually know why, but although I hate that house for all the ill memories Servilia has given me—I don't want to leave. I just wish there was somewhere I could call home."

"You can come and live with me, if you want" Aunt Porcia said, her gentle voice sounding very worried. Porcia looked to her aunt as she went on, "There is plenty of space, you can come and go as you please, I wouldn't mind. I just don't want you to be unhappy, and clearly being in your Aunt Servilia's house is causing you a lot of pain." She leant over and took her niece's hand, "If it is something you can talk about, then tell me and then maybe we can sort it out, make it easier for you to live there."

Porcia took a deep breath—she wanted to get these feelings out in the open with someone she knew she could trust and who wouldn't say a word. She smiled and just left the words come out, "The reason I don't want to leave is because… I think—well, I know—that I'm in love."

Aunt Porcia smiled knowingly, nodding her head, "With Brutus?"

"How did you know?"

The aunt laughed, "Well, it isn't that difficult my dear Cilia; he is the only man in that house, unless you're talking about Claudia in which case I am worried."

Porcia tapped her aunt's arm playfully and laughed, "Yes, I confess! It is Brutus, how could it not be? It was silly of me to question you."

"I would have guessed anyway, he's the only man in that house," Aunt Porcia, said with a knowing smile, "And some people seemed to believe that the two of you were lovers during the civil war. Well, were you?"

Porcia blushed, "Whoever started that rumour, I will string them up by their thumbs and give then fifty lashes—that fable was going around when we were there too, and it isn't true. I vow on my chastity that it isn't true."

"Not even a little bit?"

"No," she replied quickly, her face became nostalgic and she thought of how easy and comforting it was to speak to him and how happy it had made her feel. "But I'm even starting to wish it was…"

Aunt Porcia's eyes widened, "_Cilia_!"

"What?" she replied defensively, "Would you rather I lied to you?"

"It's un-virtuous," Aunt Porcia gasped, being the only one of Cato's sisters who didn't sleep with Caesar it made her into a bit of a moralist even if she was light-hearted. "Your father would have killed you if he thought you were fraudulent. He always prided himself in raising a daughter who was chaste and clean and above suspicion…"

"_Bona Dea_!" Porcia cried, covering her ears, "Goodness sake, Auntie! I was just saying is all, I wasn't suggesting that I'd be impure to my husband if he were alive because I wouldn't. I would never commit adultery against a husband. But my husband is dead now, and although I like living the vestal's life, I can't help but feel a little _curious_ about the feelings of love."

"Porcia…" the aunt said.

"Besides, father is dead and no longer here to judge me for my emotions, spit his virtue down my ear, get drunk secretly and leave me to deal with it. I know I love him but I hate him too, hate him for marrying me to that awful Bibulus and forcing me to waste six years of my life with him as a husband!" Porcia cried at the top of her voice, speaking so quickly that her aunt just about heard what she said.

The aunt placed her hand on her niece's shoulder and spoke softly, "What you're feeling is just lust, my dear. You have never before felt it so you don't know how to handle it. Lust isn't a good enough reason to betray your virtue, though. It must be love, a reciprocated love, for a girl of your goodness, virtue, and trust to give into the burning emotions you must be feeling," she paused and finally leant closer to lay her niece's head against her shoulder. She stroked the fine, soft locks of hair and went on, "And should you find yourself in such a place, you must be discreet. For gods' sake, you must be discreet! Remember, you are Cato's daughter and any inkling of an affair in our household will be broadcast to all by that bitch-pig Atia. Remember that."

Porcia smiled, "How could I forget? Atia makes mountains out of mole-hills about everything, such an affair would be sweeter then anything. I doubt it will come to that anyway," she sighed solemnly and respectively at the same time, "The other day, I kissed him—I know it was silly—and he responded but then he rushed off suddenly without saying anything. We haven't talked since, every time he tries I become awkward and I find that I can't look him in the eyes without feeling the rush of emotions, the wish just to be close to him…" she wrapped her arms around her body and curled up on herself, feeling tears coming to her eyes, "It's driving me to despair! I feel as if I'm going mad! Sometimes I wish my emotions had form so I could take them out and lock them away… I'm just so terrified of what he might say…"

"Oh, darling…" Aunt Porcia said, stroking the nervous creature's hair lovingly, "You really do love him, don't you? Poor little thing; it can't be easy, can it? But you deserve better then to feel miserable all the time." She pulled Porcia away from her and cupped her face in her hands, "Come and stay with me. Even if it's just for a few days, it's not good for either of you to live together if you can't speak to each other."

Porcia's beaten eyes looked up and nodded. Oh how she hated feeling so weak! She wondered whether she should hate Brutus for making her feel so weak… but she couldn't hate him. It pained her to think of hating him. Just thinking of his face made her heart flutter with delight. "Yes, auntie, I'd like to live with you, not just to get away from Brutus, but because I want to be closer to you."

Aunt Porcia laughed, "My dear, you don't have to live with me to be close to me."

-

Everyone in the room seemed to be watching each other at the house of the Julii. The room was lazy and peaceful but the exchanges of looks were cold and alert. Caesar stared from time to time at Servilia who glared back at him while occasionally passing a cold glance to Atia. The two Octavii siblings, Octavia and Octavian, were exchanging glances (Though there were a few looks between Octavia and Servilia) while Octavian received a few looks from Caesar. Atia was gazing at everyone, especially Servilia, gloating so much that one might think she had won the damned war! The only one who felt he was safe was Brutus, who just watched the interchanges between everyone else in the room.

It was strange having Caesar in the same room again; everyone was still talking about him and he stoked that fire himself. He had to mention his triumph which he _must_ put on next month, how _damned_ _beastly_ to organise. The charming tales of the strange and wonderful bird that Caesar was already aiding the extinction of was a small talking point and Atia, enjoying every minute of her family's glory, kept Caesar on the subject by insisting that he go to the country and relax once the triumph was over.

The Julii were never modest; they were even vain enough to claim that they were the descendants of the goddess Venus. They were all beauties and it was understandable that some people believed them divine. But by claiming that they were the children of Venus, were they saying that Venus was once a mortal woman? Or were they claiming semi-divinity? That didn't matter to Atia, who played on every jive she could to prove she was better then everyone else. Always very catty and outspoken, she had been the middle daughter of Caesar's favourite sister Julilla. Her two sisters were models of virtue and once upon a time Atia had played such a character too. She had been married at sixteen to a _novus homo_ and close ally of Caesar named Gaius Octavius Thurinus (There were rumours that they were descended of rope-makers!) who had been married before and already had a daughter, Thurina. Atia gave him Octavia and later Octavian.

The old man had died when Octavia was eight and Octavian was only four, and with the death of Octavius was the death of the virtuous Atia Secunda. At the time, Servilia is said to have said that it was like watching a tadpole turn into a frog, not a flattering quote and no doubt this helped Atia towards her later dislike of Servilia. Octavius had left everything to Atia, and Atia used her money to lure in powerful men, including Mark Antony. There was an interesting story of his debts being paid off with Atia's money though no one actually knew for sure what happened. Either way, she was finally repaid when Antony sent back his spoils from Gaul. It was truly the start of an explosive friendship.

Atia never remarried; not because she didn't want to but because she didn't want to give up the riches left behind by Octavius. Lending money was one thing, Antony was proof of that, but giving it all up for a husband who she probably wouldn't even like—never! Besides, she had a son and although he was sickly he would do. Caesar thought he would do too, tying the boy into the 'grown-up' conversation.

"_Octavian!"_ Caesar called over to him.

Octavian's young head spinning to face his uncle, his evening dreaming was broken and he was called on by Caesar. While his mother was whining about plebeians in litters, Caesar thought that maybe Octavian had something to say. Who knows… maybe he'd think of something good.

_"How would you proceed, were you me?" _

_"Err… proceed with?" _

_"Putting the republic to rights" _

_"Oh… how to proceed… I would start a large program of public works: employing citizens and freemen; repairing the aqueducts, levelling the river… that sort of thing," _he paused and glanced over everyone in the room,_ "I would also create at least a hundred new senators…" _looking at Brutus past his uncle's face, he went on_, "Who I can be sure are my creatures rather then my secret enemies." _

Brutus tilted his head, _"And your point is, Octavian?" _

_"Oh, I do not mean you Brutus,"_ Octavian said in a dismissive voice that sounded both defensive and sarcastic, _"You're a man of honour. I believe your capitulation is sincere." _

_"How nice of you to say so" _

Brutus was unsure whether to feel insulted or relieved by that comment. He couldn't think of anything better to say and it annoyed him. Once was a time when he always knew what to say, always come up with the punch line; always came up with the line that silenced the room or brought a laugh. _Where on earth did my wits go?_ He wondered this as Caesar spoke on. He wished that he had Porcia's wits, she would have thought of something very clever to say at that moment. In a way, she was a female Octavian, she seemed to know everything and see everything. Brutus was losing that ability now, and he was missing it. _Maybe Cicero is right_, he thought solemnly, _I am getting slow-witted. I am becoming Brutus_.

Caesar looked to Octavian, _"You will take his chair at the pontiff's table!" _

"_A pontiff_, _so young?"_ said the bewildered chief auger.

_"I was not much older when I entered the college." _

_"But…" _

_"I believe I have the authority to appoint whom I like." _

_"Y-yes…" _

Atia beamed with pride, almost looking as if she'd burst into a fit of power-struck giggles, _"This is a great honour; kiss your uncle's hand!" _

Octavian sheepishly looked about him, _"I'll kiss your hand, uncle… but truly I'd make an ill pontiff." _

_"Don't be silly!"_ Atia said certainly, _"You'll make a lovely pontiff." _

Caesar looked to the auger, _"You will see to it." _

_"I'd rather thought to concentrate on my poetry for a while…"_ Octavian began.

_"He'll make a lovely pontiff"_ Atia repeated, looking over to the other guests.

_"Poetry can wait,"_ Caesar insisted.

_"It should not wait too long…"_ the silence of Servilia was finally broken, as drew the eyes of all in the room. She sat important and gracefully as she eyed Caesar knowingly, _"Poetry is a young man's calling, don't you think?" _

Suddenly, no one could think of something to say. She had killed the room with her one line of the night, minus the introduction at the beginning of the night about her shawl. Brutus wondered if his mother had drained his wits as well as his confidence. It was more like him to think of a line to end a conversation… although his normally ended with a laugh. It was too bad that he never managed to kill Porcia with one word; the two of them could argue for hours and find something sticky to say that only they could get out of. Brutus looked at his mother nervously, wishing he had left her at home and made her excuses too. Why couldn't she have pulled a fast one like the others did?

There was silence for quite a while, no one dared to speak. They all looked at each other, begging each other to say something… funny story… sad story… a cold… clear of the throat… anything to break the silence. Atia got the hint and all wished it was silent again. She looked over to Servilia and smiled, "Your niece is home, isn't she?"

Servilia looked down at her cup and nodded, "Porcia, yes she is."

"It must have been traumatic for her…"

"What?"

"Being kidnapped and held prisoner by foreign outlaws, thank heavens they didn't do worse then they did," she went on, she looked over to her son, "Octavian was kidnapped by Pompeian scum when he was only eleven, if it hadn't been for those two soldiers I don't know what would have happened."

"Porcia was rescued by two soldiers as well," Brutus said taking the talk ball from his mother and passing it back to Atia. "She highly esteems them already."

"Let no one say anything against the army!" Atia said conclusively.

"They are not just simple soldiers," Caesar replied, grateful for the new conversation so he could break his silence, "Those two men seem to be unstoppable. They'll probably outlive me."

"Don't say that!" Atia put in.

"You mean they were the same men?" Brutus asked, ignoring Atia and speaking directly to Caesar, "Who were they?"

"Vorenus and Pullo," Caesar replied quickly, "They served me in Gaul; that is how they found Octavian. Since they managed to save Octavian from Pompeian scum it seemed to me that a handful of province mugs wouldn't be too hard to over come."

"Oh, let us not talk about all this again" Atia said suddenly, wanting to put the whole Porcia business to bed already. She had originally wanted to find out the latest gossip about her but clearly the girl was too boring to have anything interesting going on in her life. Nonetheless, she smiled at Brutus, and Servilia who had switched off completely, and said: "You will give her my love, won't you?"

_How can I when I can't even give her my love?_ He thought as he heard Atia's words, he nonetheless nodded, "Of course, she'll be delighted to hear you remembered her."

"And let her know how devastated I am that she couldn't come tonight" she went on.

"Yes, please do forgive her," he went on to explain, "She went to visit our aunt who is unwell."

"Oh? Which one is that?"

"My youngest sister" Servilia spoke up, without emotion. "She is unwell."

"I'm sorry to hear that, is it serious?"

"We're not sure."

"Well, give her my love as well…"

Brutus rolled his eyes and he knew his mother was thinking the same thing he was: _We might as well give her poison. _

-

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**Sorry not much happened in this chapter, but I've had a lot of work on. Next chapter, Pullo and Vorenus meet trouble with trouble when they cross the path of Porcia's brother Marcus. Atia senses a scandal, unaware one is bubbling in her own family. And Porcia not only senses a scandal but also trouble when she announces to the household that she plans to leave.**


	13. 2: Consilium

_Anyway, you know the drill, I don't own HBO: Rome (PS: Yes, I use this as a heading) _

You know how difficult it is to write a romantic scene which could be leading on to a possibly risqué scene? It is very hard to write it well! You won't imagine how many times I've had to chance some of the things in this chapter. Thankfully, I'm getting used to it now so I'm up for any ideas you throw at me, my darling reviewers, I love you all.

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Marcus Porcius Cato, the son of Marcus Porcius Cato, had been a completely different man since he came off the drink. He had been sober for over a year now; he hadn't touched a drop of red or white for over 400 days. At first it was easy, pleasant, and he felt so alive and clean headed. But then he started to come down, and it felt awful, and he had craved wine—lots of it. He didn't touch it though. Not once did he give in to the demons. Some wished he would, coming off the wine was just as bad as coming down after an opium binge. But being down was good; it meant he could find his own pleasure. Marcus never seemed to get bored.

As he followed Posca through the backstreets of the Aventine, he tried his best the blend into the crowds. This wasn't difficult as his father Cato had always taught him to dress modestly. He hadn't always followed his father's orders but in a drunken state he used to always look like a true red-blooded plebeian.

There were many people buzzing about on the poorest hill in Rome and made it hard for Marcus to see Posca. Still, the Greek had a very visible walk. Marcus hung on to a shop sign and looked over the crowds; the old bald head was straight ahead. Marcus smiled as he jumped back onto the muddy cobles and made his was through the crowds. Once off the main street, he saw in the distance Posca, making his way towards the collegium.

This was good; this meant that Caesar might have business in the collegium. Marcus followed on, tailing the slave carefully. He past a temple of Diana on the way and took a moment to stop. Not only to fool Posca had the man noticed him, but to pay respects to a goddess who meant the world to his beloved sister Porcia; she adored the strong and virtuous goddess Artemis.

Posca walked down a narrow stair way towards the docks; ships carrying grain for Egypt and various other things from the Eastern provinces. Marcus stopped to admire them. To think this extra grain came because the Egyptian slut queen had opened her legs for Caesar which resulted in an illegitimate brat. Marcus, now in open space and crowds again, hurried down the stairs only after he saw the building the old man went into.

Bounding down the stairs, he made his way past men with bowls and money, paying for the daily allowance of grain. He excused himself as he pushed his way past these plebeians, out of his new found politeness, and made his way to the brightly coloured building. On the sign outside it read; " E FVLMEN", this was the infamous Erastes Fulmen's place.

Marcus scowled as he looked inside; _what would Caesar want with this common criminal?_

He peered inside. He could faintly see what was going on: Posca was handing a rather decorated and typical Roman gangster (Fulmen) a wax tablet. Naturally Marcus couldn't see what was on it but the first thing that came to mind, once he saw Posca talking about what was on it, is that it could be one of two things. One, he could be talking about the grain supply, or two, this was a hit man's list. Marcus decided to go for the latter—he was looking for an excuse to make his allies realised what a tyrant Caesar is.

After a while, Posca took a cup of water, said one last thing to Fulmen, before making his way out. Marcus pressed his back against the wall, watching Posca go on into the crowds. Marcus didn't follow him this time; he'd seen enough. The only thought he had now was to tell his sister.

-

As Marcus told her about his afternoon of tailing-the-Posca, Porcia sat at her desk, looking down at a book but not reading a word on the page. She couldn't even remember what the scroll was about. When Marcus finished his story by knocking on the table, her head shot up in shock as she snapped out of her daze. He smiled brightly and she returned the gesture with a sheepish smile.

"Hello" she said dizzily, very un-Porcia like.

"Are you alright?" he asked, placing his hand to cup her chin. When she continued her sheepish smile he let her chin go and sat down next to her; "Sister dear, who has upset you? Is it me?"

Porcia shook her head, trying to come to her sense; "No, no! Don't worry, it's me; I feel a little funny today."

"Do you even know what I just said?"

Porcia blinked, "What did you just say?"

Marcus sighed in the most frustrated way possible and went on to explain it again: "I followed Posca from Caesar's house to the leader of Aventine Collegium and Posca handed a list to him. I think he hiring them as hit men—the question is who…"

Porcia waved her hand dismissively. "You don't know it was an enemy list and I seriously doubt that Caesar would hire a common thug to sort out the people he doesn't like. The idiotic bastard does that himself."

"But innocent republican plebs could die…"

"You need more proof before you can go running around calling Caesar a thug hirer."

Marcus pouted childishly and was about to go on arguing with his strangely 'off' sister when he noticed that she had regained her unbothered, day-dreamer face. He raised his eyebrows and looked down at her: "Aren't you supposed to be moving in with Aunt Porcia?"

"Hmm"

"Have you told Brutus yet?"

"No" Porcia quickly admitted. "I don't want to tell him—do you think I could just leave a message?"

Marcus fell into a great bout of laughter, "Listen to yourself; what are you and what have you done with my sister?"

Porcia didn't know how to answer. To be honest, she didn't know where his sister was either. She knew she couldn't be Porcia; she would have been confident; would have enjoyed the thought of a thug-hiring Caesar; would have marched straight up to Brutus and told him straight that she was going to live with their Aunt Porcia. But then the pre-war Porcia, pre-kidnapped Porcia, pre-in-love Porcia had no reason not to face up to him. Now all this girl could do was to sneak quietly off and leave someone else to do the dirty work.

"Brother, what am I going to do with myself?" she asked sorrowfully, "I feel so unsatisfied with life and I don't know why. Actually I do know why but I'm not telling you. I know it's foolish to even conceive that leaving will make it go away but I just can't find it in myself to face my problem and be honest about it."

Marcus scowled not entirely knowing what his sister was talking on about. Still, the running away gave him a general idea. "What do you mean? Has Brutus done something to upset you? Because if he has you can tell me; I'll knock him into next week if you wanted me to!"

Porcia laughed. "Don't be so stupid, brother!"

"I'm not being stupid," he replied in a serious voice. He pointed to the ground like a man giving an order, rather like the 'bring him to me order' and 'tell me now order'. He spoke critically and yet honestly: "Now you tell me what he's done and I'll sort him out."

"He hasn't done anything," she replied calmly; she could feel her cheeks flush and she placed her cold palms on them. "It was my mistake; it's my fault I can't stay here any more…"

Marcus leaned over wondering what crime his sister could have committed: "Why, what did you do?"

Porcia decided not to beat about the bush and give her brother the full details. Marcus was always lost in details: "I kissed him."

"Kissed who?"

Porcia rolled her eyes, how typical that was of him: "Brutus of course! Who the hell did you think I meant? Mark Antony? Julius Caesar? Cicero?"

"Brutus!" Marcus questioned in childish shock, like how a child reacts when they stick their hand in a pond and grab hold of the green sea plant. "You snogged Brutus; as in our cousin Brutus?"

"Yes!"

"But it's Brutus…"

"Yes" Porcia replied stopping herself from being cruelly sarcastic. "What's wrong with that?"

"Ye gods, sister" he went on, scratching the job of his head and rubbing his eyes. "Gods, isn't there a law against that sort of thing? Incest and everything…"

"It's not incest for crying out loud" she said firmly. "Anyway, we're only cousins."

"First cousins; he's our _first_ cousin."

"First cousins, and there are other cousin marriages in Rome today. Kissing Brutus isn't the same as kissing you."

"Yeah, but even with a cousin…"

"There is nothing wrong with it!"

"He played with us when we were children," he finally finished. "I suppose I just can't see how you could look at him that way."

"It feels natural to me," Porcia replied honestly for the first time in a while. Suddenly the deep rush of feelings flowed into her blood again, pulsed throughout her body and she felt that gust of love that made her sigh with unique bliss. "It felt right, like I was supposed to do it. I craved that connection with him…" she looked to her brother and blushed. She pointed to the door, "Goodbye, brother. I almost forgot that it was you I was talking to. I have no intentions of telling you about my personal life."

Marcus had been sitting in disbelief. Seeing the exit, he took it with haste, picking up on his sister's hints. He was still shocked at her overwhelming love and desire for their cousin. He found himself laughing hysterically as he left: "Believe me, sister. I don't want to know."

-

As the youthful young Cato past through the streets of the Aventine in his daze the next day, Titus Pullo carried yet another carcass to the butcher's stand. It wasn't work that he or Vorenus were used to but the smell of death was well known to them. Pullo thought that pig's blood didn't smell much different a man's blood. The stink didn't bother him. The meat assured the Vorenus family (and Pullo) at least one scrap of meat a week—a rare treat for their low class status. One thing neither Pullo nor Vorenus could appreciate was the silly aprons and hats. Lyde said that knights and patricians didn't appreciate hair or rough wool in their food—but Pullo had hardly any hair and didn't see the point of the girlish cap.

_"Fine work for a prefect, eh?" _Vorenus asked as Pullo brought over another pig and hung it on the shop hooks.

"It's not that bad!"Pullo replied, putting a cheery side on as always._ "Just like old times." _

_"That it is." _

_"You won't learn the trade sitting on your pugas," _Lyde called, feeling a great power at ordering her brother-in-law to do something._ "There are plenty more carcasses to be hung." _

Vorenus sighed, and shaking his head he returned to his work; cutting up the meat for small sale—not everyone could afford whole pigs. There seemed to be so many swine and so many of them got sold. Pullo wondered where all the meat came from—Lyde kindly explained that she and Niobe had a cousin who had their own farm with pigs and goats and gooses, sheep too—they came from that farm. So Vorneus and Pullo could work happily knowing they'd never run out of meat to hang and dice. Sarcasm was part of Lyde's personality, Vorenus later learnt.

Suddenly, something in the crowd caught Marcus Cato's attention, as well as Vorenus, Pullo and everyone else in the street. A couple of thugs, no doubt henchmen, were beating a young man on the street. He must have been in his teens and very poor. These two thugs, while unknown to some were faint in the memory of Vorenus and Pullo, as well as Marcus. The poor little mouse of a man was thrown to the floor; he cried in anguish:

_"Tomorrow, you'll have the money tomorrow!" _

The bald one turned to his fellow beaters: _"Let's take his nose off!"_

_"No! Not my nose!" _

Marcus felt compelled to do something; this may only be a meaningless plebeian but he thought that the money-lending trade was disgusting and could only imagine the horror that poor men must go through every day if they had to borrow money from a lender. Just as he was about to speak up, a sullen and stoic voice boomed from the meat stand.

_"Oi, stop that!"_ commanded Vorenus.

_"Hey"_ said one of the thugs, _"What's it to you?"_

_"Bad for business"_ replied the red man.

_"And who the fuck are you, little man?" _

_"I'm Lucius Vorenus." _

Marcus remembered that name—he knew he had heard it but he couldn't remember how or where. Now he would know forever that he was the man who jumped in to rescue a meaningless bug that many would have ignored.

_"Yeah I know you"_ said the bald one. _"Soldier boy, isn't it? Up at the dye works; tasty wife…"_

Vorenus glared angrily, eyes filled with rage: _"Do not speak off my wife. Now be off with you and don't let me see you on this street again."_

As the red dog turned away when the thug spat at the back of his head; he laughed: _"Orders? Orders! No, no because you're no longer a prefect; you're a shopkeeper!"_ In a flash, Vorenus had spun around with his fist flying, hitting the goon in his smug face. The crowds gasped, and Marcus noticed a dead silence spread over them all; even he was silent for loss of words. He caught sight of Vorenus' partner Pullo, taking hold of a carving axe. The goon looked up: rather then angered he was pleased: _"Oh, you're dead, you are!"_

_"Walk away now"_ Vorenus ordered again _"And don't let me catch you in this street again."_

The goon looked from Vorenus to Pullo and back again: _"Both of you; dead!"_

As this shady party marched off into the crowds all eyes remained on Vorenus. He held himself like a true prefect, looking to all the puzzled faces. For a moment Marcus' eyes met his but it was only briefly and wouldn't have registered in the man's mind.

_"Get back to your business"_ he said with authority.

As if the command had been sent by Jove, the street went on with their business and the crowd broke up. Vorenus returned to a troubled Lyde; her face full of anxiety.

_"You shouldn't have done that"_ she told him. _"They were Erastes Fulmen's people; he won't take disrespect like that…"_

Marcus' ears burnt as he remembered that name… E FVLMEN… Erastes Fulmen! It had to be the same man; after all, not many men would go around with a name like Erastes Fulmen. Remembering what he saw, he decided tell his sister next time he saw her. Hopefully she would be past her love struck twilight dreams and come to her senses.

-

After failing to tell Brutus that she was leaving on nearly five occasions in one day, Porcia decided to pack loudly and make it be known to the house that she was leaving… then maybe he'd see and ask her. That way she wouldn't have to actually say it. Oddly enough, though Servilia and Octavia were given quite an interesting view before they went out into the garden for some fresh air, and Claudia caught sight of Porcia, placing old scrolls into book buckets (which literally gutted her room), on her way out to visit some friends neither of them said anything nor did Brutus emerge. This annoyed Porcia to the point where, realising she was all alone in the house, she threw herself into a chair and stewed in rage.

It was coming up for Spring; her father had been dead for over a month, she had been living in her cousin's house for over a month and realised just how much time she had wasted. It wasn't just her childish choice to pack up and leave like a mistreated wife; she had wasted a whole month avoiding him when she could have explained herself to him. Never did Porcia imagine that love would make her behave so unreasonably; that was a great crime for a stoic. Porcia smiled as she could hear her father's old nagging voice, scolding her from beyond the grave.

She gave way to the rush of emotion again. They burnt her soul everyday since she had made that connection with her darling. It was odd; she had expected to feel guilty that she wanted him so much, but she wasn't. At times she felt embarrassed but only if her feelings were making her look stupid like the other day.

"Porcia," called a voice.

She sat up straight away seeing, finally, that Brutus had appeared from hiding and was making his way through the piles of book buckets laid outside Porcia's bedroom door. Folding her arms, she wondered what he would say about it… if he bothered to notice. It was just as well she had used books and book buckets, otherwise Brutus wouldn't have noticed at all. Clever he might be; he was still gullible. Just like Porcia was gullible at time… and just as their children would be, no doubt.

"What on earth are you doing making a library outside your room?" he asked, approaching her carefully.

This had been the first time he had managed to talk to her with her running away or claming up, and he wanted to keep hold of it. He loved the sound of Porcia's voice, even if it was indifferent or angry, as long as she was speaking to him.

"It looked so much nicer on your shelves."

"I'm moving them" she replied neutrally, though her emotions were bursting under her skin, begging her to make another foolish move.

"To where?" he asked, walking closer.

"To Aunt Porcia's house," she replied, finally admitting it. She thought that her emotions would settle and she'd feel relived. But she felt the opposite; telling him that she was leaving was heartbreaking. She could feel her heart in her throat; every pulse in her body throbbed in agony, and she wanted to vent these blazing emotions by embracing him.

Brutus looked at her. It hit him like a ton of bricks. All of a sudden his mind couldn't focus and the room seemed to blur. The only thing he could see clearly was Porcia, staring back at him with her rich greyish-amber eyes, full of he didn't know what. They seemed to be drinking him, waiting for an answer; he had to have one.

"Why?" the only word he could muster.

Porcia scowled; he was clearly troubled but he didn't say about that! He asked her why when he should know, that was so typical of Brutus, typical!

"Why?" she repeated gaping back at him. "Why! Isn't it obvious why I'm leaving? You and I can't talk to each other anymore and how can I live in a house with someone who I want to talk to but can't because he made me feel like an idiot?"

"When did I ever make you look like an idiot?" Brutus asked, and trying to be humorous he added: "I always look like an idiot, so you're no idiot, and what's stopping me from talking to you?"

Porcia shook her head; now they were talking she couldn't cope with her emotions, her head and heart saying two different things, the two voices in her head whispering again; she didn't even know what her mouth would end up saying. She forced out simply: "I'm leaving. I just can't deal with this. I can't deal with the rejection…"

"What rejection?"

"Your rejection"

Brutus worked himself up into anger fuelled with emotion, passion and frustration, not only with Porcia's bad mood but with fighting back to desire to silence her, not violently but lovingly. That wasn't appropriate while she was angry about the last time he kissed her. Or rather, she kissed him. Porcia grabbed her veil from the side and made her way to the door; Brutus stood in her path.

"For goodness sake, Porcia" he finally snapped. "Why don't you just say what you want to say? Scream, cry and call me every name under the sun if you wish; anything as long as you're talking to me."

"Fine," she snapped throwing her veil to the floor in furry. It was so strange, not only was he able to make her blood burn with love but it boil with anger. She knew she had to tell him now, he'd asked to an explanation and she had no reason not to give him one. Not anymore. She turned on her toes and faced him, staring at him from the other side of the room.

She marched towards him, arms folded and eyes glued on him. There were inches between them. "I happen to be in love with you."

He blinked in disbelief. Had he been hearing correctly?

"Sorry?"

"You heard what I said," she went on. "I don't why or how but I do; I love you. Sometimes just thinking of you makes me relieve the burning emotions experienced by that kiss. You are terribly faulted but Gods know I love your personality. You are a good person and always try to be cheerful; I adore that about you. Regardless of what others make think of you, I know you always mean well, that your heart is good…" she then stopped and took a step away. He said nothing and she gave up spilling her heart to him. Porcia backed away from him, keeping his eye contact as she worked her way towards the door, "That's all I wanted to tell you."

She turned her head and disappeared through the door leaving her head of family standing without a word on his lips. He stepped forwards, trying to place what was said in his head. She said she loved him… and didn't he love her too? He knew he did, so what could be done about it?

He picked her veil up from the floor and lifted it to his nose, able to resist it; it had a natural fragrance of warmth, sweetness and milk. She never dosed herself with the strong-scented perfumes that hurt men's noses when they got too close. She was just natural: natural perfection.

Footsteps returned him. He looked up. She had returned. Her hair was still loose and her face still glazed with evidence of tears. She marched up to him, noticing the veil in his hands. "I forgot my veil…"

Without realising what they were doing, the veil fell to the ground as their hands met again, their arms embraced each other and their lips re-lived the experience of their previous meeting. Their emotions overtook their guilt and restraints and they held each other tightly, passionately. It felt as if two lost and lonely people had finally found company. It was an experience that they never wanted to forget, and they never wanted to let go of each other.

Porcia was literally swept off her feet as her toes barely touched the ground. In fact they didn't; it was the leather of her sandals that faintly tapped the titled floor. Her arms were wrapped about his neck—when she could no longer touch the ground with her feet, they both and to tighten their hold on each other. It felt all the better. In this embrace they could feel a great satisfaction and yet a great longing. And that was an odd longing, a feeling which she never experienced, and for that reason, he discovered that she was easily provoked.

Needing to take in breath, they broke away from each other, gasping, saying nothing. They just stared at each other, their hearts wrenching with love for each other. Porcia was almost shaking her emotions felt so powerful. She ought to remain virtuous and strong, not to give-in to her emotions, but it was impossible. The part of her mind that told her to behave rationally was lost for words. The only voice that spoke was the one that acknowledged love, her heart.

Keeping hold around his neck she closed her eyes and brushed her cheek against his jaw. He leaned his head against hers; if only he could explain in words how lonely he had felt before now. To find someone looking for his company was a great relief, and great delight, a great satisfaction. Neither had yet spoken, yet it was Porcia who broke the silence in her trance. She found herself finding words she never thought she'd say, not to anyone, and mean it in the way she did now. As if from fear someone would hear her words, she held herself close to him and whispered very simply "I love you."

For a moment he said nothing, from the shock of it all, and just held her close, unwilling to let her go, and stroking flanks of her long hair that had come loose.

Once he had settled into his emotion he finally replied: "I love you, and that is why I cannot let you leave like this. I need you here with me. Please, don't leave, I ask you as a lover; not your cousin or a _Pater familias_, or whatever it is I am in the eyes of the law."

"How could I go now" Porcia asked, laughing faintly "when my returning for that damned veil was just an excuse to come back to a room I knew you were in?"

"So you will stay?"

"I'll stay" she replied, laughing louder, jokily and more openly now. "I'll stay but I don't know what to do with myself now… you've thrown me off course, damn you!"

"I can think a few things you can do."

She looked behind her seeing that her books were still mounted up to the side of her door; sighing, she realised that she'd have to sort it out. "I suppose I should put that lot back on the appropriate shelves in my room; someone might trip and hurt themselves."

"So let them" he replied, leaning his head against her hand and stroking the length of her arm.

"Don't be wicked" she replied with a smile; she ran her fingers lightly across the side of his neck. "It's the only decent thing to do."

"I think it's a little too late speak of decency, my dear" he joked.

"Not quite yet" she replied in a surprisingly suggestive tone, it almost came as a shock to both of them. In the end, she obliged to leave re-cataloguing her books for another time. After all, since her philosophy was to think logically, she thought it was understandable to abandon the knowledge of books she had already studied to experience to knowledge of human emotion. It was the one thing a teacher never told her about. Nor could they have taught her about it.

-

Niobe nervously counted the sums of this mouth's income from the butcher shop. Vorena could see her mother was worried; she hadn't seen her like that since her father first came home. When Vorenus returned from Gaul every day seemed to drag; the fear of Niobe and Lucius' secret being discovered was too great. Vorena wasn't sure what to think ad had always been angry at her mother who insisted on her daughter lying that she had given birth to him. Crito almost died of shock when he heard of it—oh poor Crito!

The pair glanced up to see their slave girl, Eirene, bathing her master Pullo in oil. It was a good thing they could afford the oil now, before it was all just water. It was like the new curtains, the properly painted walls, the clean bed sheets on the real beds, and the four slaves they owned. The facts were plain: the Vorenii family had come a long way in only two years and truth be known, it was really all thanks to Lyde's forgiveness and quick thinking.

Suddenly there was a rising of noise from outside the courtyard. Niobe looked up, wondering if there was a scuffle going on near the cloth dyers' stand. She had half a mind to hurry little Vorena and little Lucius inside just in case it carried on towards their threshold. Then Pullo would have to sort it out.

Then a sharp call _"Centurion!"_

Niobe nearly leapt out of her skin, her heard jolted and skipped a beat. She turned to Vorena and between them they began to gather their papers away. Then another bellowing call: _"Centurion!"_

Through the small doorway came the man of the Aventine, the former simple crook turned into a great proto-mafia godfather, Erastes Fulmen. He was very cheap-looking for someone of great wealth and was a man of poor taste. He wore many rings on his fingers, a chain necklace and bright coloured tunics. It surprised many that he didn't wear earrings; but now one would dare laugh… it was Erastes Fulmen and no one laughed at him!

_"Lucius Vorenus!"_ he roared. Niobe and Vorenus had tried to escape up the flight of stairs, but there was Fulmen and to flee would be to encourage trouble. From the balcony of their floor, Vorenus looked over to see the mob master staring up for him. _"Lucius Vorenus!"_ As Vorenus made his way past his gawping neighbours, Fulmen turned and offered a two-faced smile to Niobe and Vorenus. _"Niobe, looking as lovely as ever; Phyllis sends her best regards." _

Now, Phyllis was Fulmen's ideal woman; just as cheap and tacky as he was. Niobe had never liked the woman much but had taken to sucking-up to her a lot more since Erastes won the run of the hill. It was the only was Niobe and Lyde could discourage trouble from her—if anyone insulted that damned woman, even once, Fulmen would make sure it only happened once.

_"Very pretty family you have,"_ Fulmen said keeping his smile finding it amusing that Vorenus still have the same stoic glower. _"So, back from the wars; must be hard adapting to civilian life, eh? Different rules…" _in a flash the smile was lost and the hideous anger came out: what made it worse was that it was steeped in mockery_: "Different fucking rules!"_ He pointed to the bald, tall man that had harassed that poor man earlier before the eyes of Vorenus, Pullo, and Lyde, as well as Marcus and all who had business on the Aventine.

_"My man Urbo here says you slapped him in the face,"_ Erastes went on with eyebrows raised. _"Did you do that?"_

_"I did"_ Vorenus replied.

_"See, that's what I mean"_ the mobster replied, _"Different rules; you see I'm allowed to chastises my people,"_ and as if to demonstrate he took hold of an empty oil jar and threw it at Urbo's head. As it smashed against him, he fell to the ground in agony while Fulmen turned back to Vorenus, _"Regular citizens, like yourself, are not allowed to touch them; if someone does touch them, they have to be punished: rules!"_

_"Get to your point"_ Vorenus demanded.

Erastes scowled and turned to the on-looking, gaping audience, which included Pullo who held a barber's knife carefully between his fingers.

_"This is the second time"_ Fulmen announced, _"That Lucius Vorenus has shown me disrespect. Next market day at noon, he will find me in the forum; he will kneel down, he will kiss my feet and he will apologise to me,"_ he paused as he turned back to Vorenus giving him an 'as-matter-of-fact' look, _"If he does not to this I will come here and kill him… but before he dies he will see his wife and daughters raped; and then I will burn down this building." _

Pullo felt himself bursting with anger, how he wanted to stick that knife through Erastes Fulmen's neck; how he wanted to hear him chock, how he wanted to hear that squelch of his blood as he tumbled to the ground, how much that monster deserved it…

_"Hold!"_ Vorenus said, breaking Pullo's thoughts. In those thoughts he had almost carried out the deed. Fulmen could already feel the pain in the back of his neck and was weary of Pullo's thoughts. Vorenus' frown deepened: _"You've said your peace?"_

_"I have" _

_"Then leave now" _

Fulmen nodded, wondering what the famous Vorenus would do. Either way, the reward would be delicious and satisfying. _"Good day to you." _

Once Erastes Fulmen left, there was a great sigh over the area, for all except Vorenus' family. Pullo turned to him straight away and the pair exchanged a look—a look that showed a destiny that now the pair was tumbling towards. And for once, Pullo thought he would be resourceful. Unwilling to walk away, just gearing up and preparing for fate, he would seek advice. It probably wouldn't be useful but it might be his last chance at being clever, or attempting to anyway.

-

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Thank you for reading, sorry it took so long to post but I've serious been having trouble lately. Please write your reviews and tell me if you want anything special to happen because I just love to here your thoughts and opinions. 


	14. 2: Eternus

To summarise for you all: Porcia's brother Marcus has a feeling that Caesar has hired Erastes Fulmen for unsavoury purposes; Vorenus and Pullo have made enemies with Fulmen for the last time it seems, and on a lighter note Porcia and Brutus have finally got it on. However all cannot be perfect because this is Rome. Now, Porcia tries to save both Pullo and Octavia from their mistakes, while the former is willing for any help she has to offer, the latter throws the advice back in her face. In order to help Pullo, Porcia must ally with the enemy.

PS: I have been keeping my cousins with their GCSEs; that's why I haven't posted before now. I had no time to write the chapter. University is hard. Oh well, at least I don't have to sleep on campus. Enjoy the chapter, truly. With the series coming to my country soon, again, I hope it'll attract more of an audience since its dead in the US. Please don't stop reviewing; I love to hear how you guys are doing. Most of you have been reviewing for ages now.

Twenty-two pages… this is my personal best! The longest chapter of them all.

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Porcia kept opening and closing her eyes, wondering whether she was asleep or awake. Wondering whether it was the morning, afternoon, or the first sights of a midsummer evening or navy blue night. It was obviously the afternoon; the harsh sun was bleaching the darkness white. The windows were closed and only a glowing pattern could be seen spreading across the floor. Her half open eyes caught sight of them. She hated the bright light of daytime; it made her feel guilty about lying in bed. She watched the dust as it danced towards the early afternoon sun.

She knew she should get up…but it was just so warm! And peaceful and comfortable—the warmth she felt was almost enough to make her drift away again, to close her eyes and hopefully not open again until the evening. But the guilt stopped her; she turned her head away from the glowing patterns and dancing dust and faced her guilt. She knew they hadn't done anything wrong; she was still pure and he was innocent of any crime a judge might put against him with her.

She tried to remember what she had been doing—she knew they had been talking. She remembered laughing, a lot. She remembered a few other things… but what had she been doing before she was distracted by the light patterns? She shifted her legs and knocked something off the bed. It fell to the ground with the sound of a cluster of paper. It gained the attention of both of them. They sat up with a start.

"So that's what it was!" Porcia said, remembering

"What was what?" Brutus asked, looking at the fallen scroll, wondering what she was talking about.

"I couldn't remember what we were doing," she explained leaning over to pick it up and noticing the other books shattered about. "I was half asleep and couldn't tell dream from reality."

"You should have asked me" he replied, sitting back again. "Nothing more real than me; we've only been silent for ten minutes."

"Was it only ten?"

"Yes"

"Seemed much longer…" she said, only half conscious. Brutus nodded as he folded his arms and thought of what to say in reply. It really was one of those days where you couldn't be bothered to get up, or move. The only thought was to sit around and do nothing. In the end he said nothing and sat in silence, trying to focus his mind. All of a sudden, Porcia sprang into action, knocking a few more scrolls to the ground. "Get up, get up. Hurry now!"

"Huh?" he mustered as she grabbed hold of his hands and pulled him to sit up; it was almost child-like the way she dragged him. "You're lively all of a sudden!"

"I said get up!" she ordered girlishly. "Quickly!"

The moment she let go of him he fell backwards, purposely, playing at her game. She attempted to pull him up again but he slumped backwards again absurdly.

"Are you twelve?" Porcia asked, scowling.

"I hope not," he teased, smiling. "I'd have to go through puberty again."

Porcia smiled, shaking her head: "Of course, I forgot how immature you can be."

"Oh, yes" he replied, "and you're very mature, no doubt."

"I didn't say that" she said, attempting to pull him up but failing again, this time taking her with him. Determined not to judge herself by her own virtue, she quickly pulled herself off him and to the side of him before going on. "But I do think logically…"

"Do you?"

"Yes" she replied stubbornly; her scowl faded when he smiled and her heart melted. "Stop doing that!"

"Stop what?"

"Teasing me with that nonchalant look on your face… and stop smiling… what do you find so funny?" she replied, frustrated, not with him but the mood that was setting in. It was very odd.

"I'm not laugh at you" he assumed her, placing his hand affectionately on hers. "I'm just, I don't know, feeling strange. I find it hard to believe that I'm feeling the way I do now."

He then stopped and moved his hand to her face, stroking it affectionately. It made Porcia's skin shiver with delight again. She couldn't believe how much she loved him; it was like a great power had swallowed her hold. She ended up smiling, placing her hand on his, and closing her eyes so she could feel the warmth.

"Now, why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me?"

"Because I don't want anyone seeing us like that" she replied. "I don't want them getting the wrong idea."

"What idea would that be?" he asked with a smile.

"You know exactly what idea I mean" she replied, putting him back up again. This time he stayed up and they stared each other for a while. Porcia raised her eyes-brows and shook her head, clueless. "What?"

"What's wrong with that idea?" he asked. "Is it an insulting thought for you to conceive?"

"No" she quickly replied. In fact, there had been many times during these past few months where she felt that if given the chance she would have given in to the 'idea' for him, but because of their distance, she had never been faced with the choice. Now she was, and she felt guilty. Not from the lust but because of a certain someone. "It's nothing to do with us… it's just, well, Claudia."

"What about Claudia?"

"She's your wife…"

"Is she really?" Brutus replied sarcastically, but cheerfully. "I was wondering what she'd been doing in my house for nine years."

Porcia couldn't help laughing, "Oh, ye gods, Brutus! Be serious about this; you've been married to her for nearly ten years. I mean, she doesn't know about how you feel about me, or I about you…"

"What's your point, Porcia?" he asked, becoming serious again. "Surely you aren't suggesting that Claudia will be upset. Neither us of love one another, we never have. I don't think I've ever loved anyone truly; until now, of course."

"Really?" was all she could manage, wide eyes looking, when she went back to the point. "I just don't want to be the woman who made the daughter of Appius Claudius look like a fool. I am Cato's daughter, after all. Father would be appalled if he were still here. And besides, there isn't just Claudia… there is your mother too! And she hates me enough for Claudia and herself. She likes Claudia…"

"Only because she can walk all over Claudia" Brutus scoffed.

"That is neither here nor there; the point is that your mother wouldn't approve."

"I pull a hair for what my mother thinks" he protested.

Now it was Porcia's turn to scoff: "Ha! I'm sure you would; pulling a hair can be very painful."

"With the added risk of going bald" Brutus added, "If you pull enough hairs."

"True; the point is that I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Maybe we should make it so we can't get in trouble" he replied. He sat up properly next to her and folded his arms. Porcia looked at him, wondering what he meant. In a way, she was quite childlike and naïve even though she was in the body of a woman and even though she was mature and held strength that even many adults lack. It almost distracted him from his words as he decided to explain: "What if I were to…"

At that moment, Sylvia burst into the room, calling for Porcia. "Ma'am, ma'am, someone is here to see you. He says it's important!"

Porcia nearly leapt out of her skin at this sudden invader of her privacy, even if it was Sylvia. She scowled, "In future do not storm into my room like that! You scared the furies out of me!"

Sylvia looked troubled, "S-sorry, ma'am" she then looked to Brutus, who just stared at her. Although she was clearly surprised she said nothing. "I won't do it again…"

"Forget it" Porcia said, feeling guilty. She didn't like yelling at Sylvia even if she was a slave; she had been a good companion to her, and a good friend. "What does this man want? Who is he?"

"It's that man who helped us in Africa" she replied, gathering herself, "the very brutish one."

"You mean Pullo?" she replied instinctively. Sylvia nodded.

Porcia naturally wondered why Titus Pullo had asked to see her so urgently. If he needed help, surely he would go to someone else long before he came to her. He was a good man, even if he was vulgar, and liked to rely on his own strength. For that reason, Porcia could tell that Pullo must really need her assistance. The question was; what? Sylvia had said very little on the purpose of the man's visit.

Still, she would know soon enough.

Out in the courtyard stood the strong and powerful Pullo, pleased to see the girl he had saved from death. She was just as he remembered her; long auburn hair, amber-grey eyes and pale complexion. He couldn't help noticing that her hair was tangled and un-brushed—it was quite early in the afternoon for a patrician lady in the warm months who normally relaxed around this time, talking to friends. But even Pullo was sure that the Lady Porcia had no real friends amongst her class, who probably made small talk and bitchy comments, things he was sure Porcia hated.

He smiled and bowed his head. Porcia made the smile that Pullo imagined was how Eirene would if she smiled more. "Lady, I am sorry to disturb you at this time…"

"At what time?" she asked

"The siesta," Pullo explained, babbling. "Only the young master, that's Master Octavian, says his mother and sister normally retire for a few hours. Good manners apparently for women to do that, and talk and like."

"Oh" Porcia replied, understanding. "No, I wasn't resting, I was… well, I wasn't resting exactly… I was… reading. Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Your hair is…" Pullo pointed, but then he heard Vorenus' voice haunting his mind with a stern 'Pullo', and he stopped, "Really nice."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Porcia touched her messy locks, realising it was tangled. She felt embarrassed, touching her cheeks which began to burn with warmth. "I'm sorry… I didn't realise…"

"No, no… it's alright" Pullo assured her, "Suits you."

Porcia bleeped a small laugh, "Thank you, Pullo. But really I was just, well, moving things around and I must have over worked myself and…" she stopped, wondering why she was explaining herself to him. She folded her arms and smiled, "What's wrong, Pullo?"

The cheerful face turned serious and worried. Pullo scratched the back of his head, wondering how to explain his problems. Porcia was on tenterhooks, rather flattering on Pullo's part. He finally started, "Well, you see, err… have you heard of Erastes Fulmen?"

"Erastes Fulmen?" Porcia repeated, running the name through her head. "I think I have heard the name before. Wait, yes, I remember now! He is in charge of the grain supply as it comes into Rome at the docks, isn't he?"

"Yeah"

"Yes, that's right" Porcia replied, nodding, and for some reason trying to picture him. She saw him as a very oily sort of man; short, horribly fashioned hair that was wet with sweat of sitting around in the pit-holes of the lower Aventine. He no doubt had a graved voice too. She looked up, snapping herself out of her daze: "What about him?"

"Yeah, well" Pullo went on, awkwardly, "a couple of Erastes' boys were beating this lad—probably no older than you. He didn't look like much though, clearly homeless or living on the top of the insula, you know?"

"I do" Porcia replied, imagining it. "My great-great-grandfather's family started out there when they first came to Rome. They didn't live at the top but even mid-ways they lived in awful conditions" she sympathised. "Well, what about this boy?"

"Well, it's like this ma'am, err… Erastes' boys were getting ready to take off his nose…"

"Ouch!" Porcia hissed, biting her bottom lip, once again picturing the scene.

"I know," he said, stopping to smile—quite out of place—before going on, "and Vorenus wasn't having it, so he stopped them."

"Very commendable" she said, nodding in approval. "You have to look out for one another in this world. I have always admired the way plebeians manage to stay loyal to each other."

Pullo brightened up, feeling complimented and almost forgetting his purpose; "Really?"

"Yes" Porcia replied, enjoying the conversation as it invited her to speak her mind. "Plebeians all seem to look out for one another and do their best by each other, more than my social class. Patricians are like vouchers picking at the flesh of a dead stag." She paused and went back to the point: "So what happened then?"

"When what then?"

"When Vorenus told these criminal henchmen to seize harassing the young gentleman?"

"Oh!" it dawned on Pullo again. It was amazing; in one moment she had cast away all the shadows in the mind. A queen amongst men, truly she was. He resumed the story:

"Well, he went forward, right, to tell these bastards to on their way, this big nose bad boy tried it on, like, with Vorenus. He spat on him and started insulting Niobe, so Vorenus gave him a whack."

"Good for him"

"I'm glad you think so, but that bully boy cunt went crying to Erastes Fulmen and now…" Pullo paused, wondering how to put it.

He didn't have to put it any way; Porcia guessed. Naïve, cute little Cato's daughter she was but she knew what these gangs got up to. Her cousin used to hire them for his own personal reasons, so she had a pretty good idea on how the crooks and murderers function. "He's going to 'try it on'?"

Pullo couldn't help but smile at her, the way she put it seemed so serious and yet so light that he had to smile. "That's right" he said, looking at her smiling face. "I'm having a bad influence on you."

"Not at all" Porcia said as if she were a child being taunted by her brother. "Remember, I am three quarters plebeian myself, and you know what? I'm proud of it! Besides, I prefer being self-righteous to other patricians and strangers; there is no point in pretending to be better than you or any other plebeian—the status quo takes care of all that formality rubbish!"

Pullo laughed and sighed, wondering why she was so nice to him; he supposed that patrician women just found him interesting. The young master's mother certainly did; she hired him to tutor her son. "Any road, I thought I'd come and ask your advice."

Porcia was confused; she knew nothing of gang culture in Rome, only that of the bandits who held her prisoner. "What sort of advice Pullo?"

"Well… what would you do if it were you?"

"This wouldn't happen to me, Pullo" she replied with a smirk. "This sort of thing could only happen to you pair. I lead a very normal life."

"If your life is normal I'd hate to be a patrician with an eventful life."

"Better to be a plebeian with a boring life, it seems. Well, I'm not sure what to tell you, Pullo" Porcia said, finally choosing to put her brain into action. "In fact, I'm not sure if advice is what you need. You need a blessing. You need help…" she then paused. "If I can do anything, I will. I owe you so much; I owe my life to you…"

"You overate what we actually did…"

"But I am still grateful" Porcia said sternly, as if she were ordering Pullo accept a reward he did not want. "To not help you would be wrong. I will try my best. In the meantime, you would prepare for a fight. Get anything you can, get ready to fight them off; you did it before and I'm sure you can do it again. I've never seen a man with as much spark as you."

Pullo couldn't help but smile. He never thought he be complimented by such a lady. Porcia was probably the most ladylike woman he knew, even if he didn't know a lot of ladies. "Erastes Fulmen is very dangerous. I think it might take more than that."

"When is this 'brawl' scheduled to take place?"

He loved how she used all the big words; it was true that Porcia threaded words and sentences better than she did a tunic: "Next market day."

Porcia nearly cursed, but stopped herself; "Well… in that case, I'll do what I can. I can't promise anything, though. But I'll have to think about this…" It then hit her, out of the blue for no reason whatsoever. "I'll have to call in a few favours. But just in case it doesn't work, get ready for a fight. Get swords, get back-ups; in fact get anything you can to make it easier for you."

She turned to walk back into the house, leaving Pullo standing in wonder. He called out to her: "What's your plan?"

Alarmed by Pullo's sudden holler she jumped as she looked back, "I'm not sure yet... but you'll know when you see it. If you see it, that is."

As she re-entered the house, trying to think of how she could do it. Next market day would be in two days; so she had forty-eight hours to think of something to help her friend or else there would be a bloody massacre on the Aventine. She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her eyes, trying to think. Nothing came to mind. She needed inspiration. Porcia turned to return to her room, not to sort out books like she should, when she noticed Octavia leaving the house. She didn't say anything, but it made her think of someone who could help—Caesar!

But for her to talk to Caesar would be to speak to the enemy; he made Porcia's blood boil. The most irritable man she'd ever met with his smooth voice that sounded so hypocritical and a matter of fact—always able to twist the things she said and make her feel small. She hated him! Him and his stupid tone of voice; it annoyed her so much sometimes she wanted to take a knife and slit his throat just to shut him up, never mind what heart break he had caused her and the republic.

But in times such as these, when you owe debts to others, Porcia knew you had to face up to your enemy, and his nonchalant smile. Of course, she knew that she had to be tactful about it. If anything, she had to go to Caesar's house and make it look as if she was not asking a favour off him. Straight away, she realised that the one way to get to Caesar was through Calpurnia.

Calpurnia was supposed to be the most dignified woman in Rome, a type of statue to be more precise, and with a genuinely good nature. There had been many stories about Calpurnia among the plebeians, centred on the fact that her husband strayed like a tom cat on the prowl, so now her apartments were swamped with cats to fill the lonely place in her heart. In real life, Aunt Porcia had informed her niece that the Lady Calpurnia was deathly allergic to cats. There was a cat in the house, but it caught mice; that was as far as it went. Porcia was glad—she'd had bad experiences with cats—when she was little her stepmother's cat bit her and scratched her.

Without stopping to think, she found her discarded veil and rushed off towards the door. Sylvia, who as always, shuffled along beside her; she didn't want to bring up the subject of what she had been doing before Pullo had called and decided not to, though she was sure Porcia would kick herself for her actions later.

-

Octavia returned home, wondering what to make of her new information from Servilia—that woman so desperately wanted to destroy Caesar. Even though she felt a strange loyalty towards her uncle and her mother, if what her mother had done was true. As if by magic, Atia was sitting near the garden, chewing merrily like a cow on fruit.

"Mother" she began, quietly.

Atia brushed her hair back and wore her normal cheerful smile to greet her daughter. There was always something annoying about the way Atia spoke. Even when she was angry, she didn't sound angry. She could read an elegy and still sound as if she was telling a joke. Octavia thought it interesting how voices all sounded different—Atia's voice sounded like a good-humoured woman; Servilia's was icy but had a motherly tone to it. Junia Tertia sounded mousey, Calpurnia sounded like a shrew, and Porcia sounded serious but not serious enough for a woman of her personality. There was a lot to voices, a lot more than Octavia realised.

"Oh, Octavia my honey" her mother replied cheerfully. "How was your visit to Servilia? I hope the boring old trout doesn't cause you too much trouble."

Octavia just shrugged. She could barely think about either Servilia or her mother at this moment. She didn't know which one to believe—either way, which ever one is telling truth she was about to lose one of them forever. "Mother…" she began.

"How is everyone else in that house?" Atia said, ignoring Octavia's silent voice. "I was hoping you could clue me in on what's going on, only little birdies tell me that Porcia has been walking around the house like a nightmare for over a week now."

She hadn't noticed this, while visiting Servilia she rarely ever noticed anyone else who lived in the house—Brutus and Porcia being the only ones. On occasion she had seen Porcia walk off in what Atia would call 'a hump' whenever Brutus came into the room… maybe that was why. "I can't say I noticed; Porcia stays out of Servilia's way so she wouldn't come near me."

"You should try being her friend" Atia suggested suddenly, her one-thousandth smile that day. "You'd probably find her more interesting than boring Servilia and her dull weaving."

"I like weaving with Servilia" Octavia said quietly, thinking of what Servilia had told her about Atia's actions; feeling a shiver of furry rise up her spine.

"Ha!" Atia exclaimed before spilling out the stone of a fruit she had been eating. Octavia hated it when she did that. At least it hadn't hit a slave; even then all Octavia could think was how disgusting it was. "I just thought you'd get on more with Porcia; I hear she's a little grump as well. And she's a frump too."

Octavia struck a look at her mother before replying, quietly: "She can afford to be a frump; she's very beautiful."

"I'll take your word for that, my dove" her mother replied, putting another small fruit in her mouth. Again, she chewed it happily. "I've hardly seen her but I know what you mean—she is quite nice in a frumpy, stoic, skinny sort of way."

"Mother, I need to ask you something…"

"I hear that she's quite mouthy too—Uncle Gaius said she's already given him an earful. I've heard a couple of rumours saying that the Boni want Brutus to marry her. They say Cassius has his heart set on it," Atia went on, ignoring her again.

"Really…" Octavia said, annoyed at her mother ignoring her. She was beginning to lose her patience. "Mother, I need to talk to you. Will you just listen?"

Atia stared at her daughter more a moment before smiling again. "Yes, of course, my love. What is it?" She hunched herself up like a child and looked at Octavia, waiting for the words. It dawned on Octavia then that she just couldn't say that to her mother straight. She had to remind her of the subject, see how she reacted. She took a deep breath and spoke. "Lately I've been thinking about Glabius…" she saw Atia loosen a bit, "…and his death."

Her mother showed signs of guilt, but not too much; to the naked eye no one would have noticed but to everyone know knew her she was like a wolf in sheep skins. Guilt was not a feeling Atia bothered to worry herself with. Guilt was a horrible feeling and Atia didn't like thinking of the horrible—it made her feel _icky_.

Atia felt herself inch at the back of her neck. She relieved herself of it bother before turning to the one in front of her. "Oh, really?" she said, trying to sound casual "Why is that, my poppet?"

Octavia scowled, "I think about him all the time. He was murdered, brutally, for no reason whatsoever."

"He was killed, darling. Not murdered."

"What's the difference?"

"A murder is when you plot to kill someone" Atia stated, feeling as if she was trying to dig out of a hole only to find the hole was getting deeper. "Glabius was just killed by some scum on the street."

"How do you know it was murder?" she queried.

Atia's mouth opened and shut before she very quickly but firmly said: "I don't; but if it was murder we would have found them by now…" she spat out the stone of another fruit and picked up her cup of wine to take a sip. "You can't keep a thing like this quiet."

Octavia's eyes lowered and her brow nearly scowled before she sat back and helped herself to a peach which lay alone in the fruit bowl. It was true that voices had many tones, but Octavia's was the least remarkable, and she knew it.

"No" she agreed neutrally. "You certainly can not."

-

When Calpurnia was told that Porcia Catonis, the daughter of haughty old Cato had come to visit her, she was not surprised. It seemed only right that they should be friends, although she was unsure why. She thought maybe she wanted to have Porcia as a friend—she sounded like a very nice and from what gossip told a very virtuous and stoical young lady. It would be nice to meet a woman whose sexuality was under control and private to her, rather than displayed walls like Servilia's, or so well-known and scandalous that respect was lost forever and was replaced with fear, as with Atia.

She received her guest modestly with a warm smile; it was good to finally see the girl. Porcia walked in wearing a polite smile which was honest. That was a change from the normally fake grins that her husband's niece normally threw at her at family get-togethers. They held their hands out to greet one another before taking their seats.

"It's good to see you again, Porcia" the wife of Caesar began.

"And you too," Porcia replied, finding herself remembering the days of her childhood when she would be dragged along by her aunt and cousins to Atia's house where Calpurnia would be there with Julia, when she was still alive. Porcia would sit down and read, rather than join in the games. "I don't think we've ever had a proper chat."

Calpurnia smiled and nodded, "The last time we spoke was at Julia's funeral and that was... my gods, nearly seven years ago… time passes so fast!"

"It does" Porcia replied with a firm nod.

Calpurnia politely asked her if she would like something to drink, to which Porcia asked for water. She was worried when she just asked for plain water rather than accepting the lemon that the slaves up in Calpurnia's water. But the woman wasn't insulted or offended at all, she just laughed and had the slaves carry out the order.

"Modest like your father?" she asked. Porcia simply nodded as she drank the tasteless smoother; it was so cool and fresh, she loved it. She liked water alone—to her it was a modest way of finding pleasure. In her sips, she was interrupted by Calpurnia's next choice of words. "So, what is it you want, Porcia?"

She nearly chocked on her fresh pleasure. She covered her nose in case any water was coughed through her nose before quickly putting down the cup and recovering herself. She forced and smile: "That obvious, is it?"

"Well, I know how you Junii work" she replied.

"I'm not actually a Junii; I'm just included in the clan because I happen to share a non-related relative with my Junii cousins" Porcia explained as if she was her father who always tried to discount his connections to the Junii family—which was hard since her sister had married into it, twice. "But I don't want anything; it's more of a favour I want."

Calpurnia made a friendly motion with her eyebrows, waiting for the favour.

"Well" Porcia went on "I really need to talk to or at least pass a message on to your husband Caesar. Two of his men who he will know very well are in danger. He is a well known man around where he lives as being a war hero and has aided your husband many times. A friend of his, another who your husband knows of, came to me appealing to help. I obviously cannot help him alone. I need to let Caesar know; the death of Vorenus or Erastes Fulmen could bring chaos to the Aventine."

Rather than being confused as Porcia thought she would, Calpurnia seemed to show understanding. The younger lady imagined that her senior, being Caesar's wife, was the living example of "speaking silence" as Caesar used to call it. In her youth, Porcia had enjoyed being a "speaking silence" herself—although recent events with her father has forced her to speak up against him. Sometimes Porcia wished her Aunt Servilia, and Atia, would become a "speaking silence" themselves. The Palatine would certainly be more peaceful if those two hags weren't bitching about each other constantly.

Porcia quickly spoke again, "But don't get me wrong—I wanted to speak to you too. To be honest, I've wanted to visit you for quite some time now. You are, after all, a Calpurnii and distance relative of my late husband Bibulus. I also came for news of my stepson, Lucius."

"Well," Calpurnia began, "once I tell you of Lucius I will hurriedly inform my husband of this Vorenus of yours. Now, young Lucius has been doing quite well—once he returned, Claudia and I both agreed that he should attend an orator school so we sent him there. He's been studying all sorts of things, masculine things that normal women don't understand… so you'll have a lot to talk about when he finally decides to drag himself back here."

Porcia smiled, "He reminds me of my cousin Brutus."

"How is that, Porcia?"

"Goes to a foreign country to study, ends up having a keen-old time, and forgets all about me" she replied. "Doesn't he write letters?"

"Claudia told him that he ought to" Calpurnia explained with a warm smile. "But you know how he is."

"Hopefully he won't be like his brothers" Porcia said grimly.

"He's far too cheerful for that" the older woman replied. She then paused and spoke more seriously. "I was sorry to hear of Calpurnilla's death."

Porcia felt guilt sink in her heart down, down, down into the pits of her chest until she felt as if it was beating in the walls of her belly. It had come as such a shock to her she had pushed it to the back of her mind. All she could do was nod, "Thank you."

Seeing that this was not a route Porcia felt like taking, Calpurnia decided to go back to these two soldiers whose lives were threatened. "So, tell me; who is Vorenus?"

"Vorenus?" an elegant voice called.

As Calpurnia's eyes rose to look at her husband Porcia just sat still, as if waiting for her cue to turn around. "What about Lucius Vorenus?"

Porcia turned around and forced a smile, "I wonder if his ears are burning right now."

Caesar rolled at the sight of this girl. He wished his wife chose her friends more carefully; Porcia was the daughter of Cato, who would no doubt stay loyal to her own rather than throw her weight behind a tyrant like Caesar. She had always been against him; Caesar recalled one time when she was ten and Caesar and Pompey had permitted the attack on her father and others in the streets—the girl had flung herself at him with nails bared, fists clutching to his toga, she screamed assaults. "Tyrant" she had screamed then, and he had no doubt "Tyrant!" was what she'd scream now if she had the chance.

"Do you think it's a good idea to be friends with Porcia Catonis, my dear?" he asked casually. "She is, after all, Cato's daughter."

"Thank you, mighty Caesar" Porcia replied sarcastically.

He stood unmoving, well-built and very graceful in a soldierly-manly way: "And what has this one-woman-spawn of chaos brought upon me today?"

Porcia scowled, "Have I brought you any chaos recently?"

"As a woman you probably haven't heard the gossip in the senate" he replied smugly, knowing this would insult what Porcia thought tact. She liked to think she knew everything a man knew. "The senate loves you, my dear."

"They loved Cato" she said simply.

"Indeed" he replied just as simply. "One would think you were attempting to play at politics, my dear girl."

She just smiled, "As you say, it's not a woman's place."

Caesar looked at her, looking for a trace of deception in her eyes. The tension between them was thick fog. He steered away from the subject by going back to the original point: "Why do you mention Vorenus here, young lady?"

'_Young lady'_, Porcia thought, _he speaks to me as if I were a child_.

"He's in trouble" she said simply. She stood but stayed still as if she were on a stand off with Caesar. It was like watching Cicero and Hortensius argue; or Terentia and Clodia. "He intervened when a couple of henchmen of one Erastes Fulmen were about to resort to violence towards a young freedman in the middle of a busy street…"

She noticed a slightly flicker in Caesar's eye—for a moment a spark fuelled up in her heart but there were not enough memories to back it up. Her brother had said something about Caesar, Posca and an enemy list of plebeian Catonians and stoics and republicans.

"Vorenus was keeping the peace" she went on, "but Erastes Fulmen has now sworn to attack Vorenus on market day at noon. I was paid a visit by Titus Pullo who claims they intend to fight. Either way chaos will break; Vorenus is a hero of war and no-doubt well known to people on the Aventine. But he is a veteran—if he defeats Erastes Fulmen then chaos will break out at the docks."

"I know it" Caesar said sharply. "And why are you telling me this?"

"You're Caesar" Porcia replied. "I thought you might like to use your power to keep the peace rather than disrupt it with civil wars."

"Watch your tongue, my girl" Caesar said firmly but calmly. "Popular you may be with the love struck old men of the senate you are still an orphan with no powerful father to protect you anymore. You still live because I had you saved."

"And you owe the fact I am safe to Vorenus" Porcia replied confidently, "and Pullo. Erastes Fulmen shouldn't be allowed to do this to people off his own back." The young woman paused for a moment before whispering quietly, "You wouldn't want anyone to think you had something to do with it. Vorenus is a man of fierce republican honour."

Caesar folded his arms. He couldn't tell whether she was suggesting she knew something about his dealings with Fulmen or was attempting to blackmail him. He ruled out blackmail straight away—she no doubt thought that tacky, Cato certainly did. It was strange but Porcia had a way of getting to him in a way no one else could nowadays. He almost enjoyed arguing with her. But this was not a cause for enjoyment. Cato's daughter or not she was right. If an action wasn't taken there could be a lot of trouble for him.

"And you want me to do, what?" he asked.

"Put a stop to it" she requested finally. "I want you to swear that you will stop it."

"Swear an oath to you?" Caesar said, thinking this woman was pushing her luck. "That is like making a bargain with Hecate." _There is a special place in Hades for outspoken women like her_, he thought. Still, he knew she was silent when she had nothing proper to say, so he decided to accept her demand of him. "Very well, I will… consider it."

Porcia glared at him for a moment before deciding to back off. This was the best answer she would get out of a tyrant like Caesar who liked to think he made decisions on his own terms rather than the suggestions of others. Brutus even suggested to her that Caesar's plan of action for putting the republic to rights was thought up by Octavian.

She turned to face Calpurnia who stood to embrace her before she took a step back and politely nodded her head to Caesar. "Thank you for speaking with me, Caesar. With your permission I will leave."

He rolled his eyes again—she treated him as if he were a king—this was her being at her most sarcastic, he thought: when she was doing it just to save her own neck. He watched as the young woman, modest in dress but loved by the rich old men of the senate, ascended the stairs, meeting her slave Sylvia before disappearing down the corridor.

Calpurnia raised an eyebrow, "She is merely a girl, my dear, and she has a good heart—even if she is a little bit haughty."

"Haughty?" Caesar exclaimed once he was sure she had gone. "She thinks far too much of herself."

"She's young" Calpurnia replied carefully.

"She is a natural born politician" spoke a third voice in Posca, Caesar's chief slave. Both Caesar and Calpurnia looked at him, both agreeing. He looked to Caesar, "If she were a man she would be leading the boni against you right now."

"You're right" the master agreed. "And I have no doubt that she will remarry soon. As my wife says, she is young, and beautiful, and clever, and is the daughter of Cato. She is the wood that would fuel the fire of my enemies' hatred of me."

He looked from Posca to Calpurnia, slowly walking towards her until he was sitting in the seat beside her, still warm from Porcia's presence there. "Whoever she marries will control the Boni—now, who do we know in the Optimates who is threatening enough and daring enough to marry Porcia?"

Calpurnia thought for a moment, trying to recall all of the faces of Cato's most notable allies. But they were all dead and all that were left were the cowardly senators who backed Caesar, secretly desperate for someone to step-forward and reassemble the Boni.

"There isn't anyone" she said simply.

Caesar smiled, "Oh there is. Think about it—threatening and daring—who is threatening and daring?"

"All the threatening and daring men support _you_ in the senate" Calpurnia replied.

"Then look to the men who appear to be on 'my side'" he informed her. "Who is not only a threat and a daredevil but also foolish enough to be influenced by the demons that sit on his shoulder; a young man who normally leads from the heart rather than the head?"

Calpurnia paused; this time she got it right. "Oh!" she said in triumph, "You're talking about Brutus?"

"Indeed, my dear" Caesar replied with a smile, glad his wife had correctly guessed this time "Although, I have no doubt of Brutus' loyalty to me, of course."

"Then why is he a threat?"

"Because my enemies think the world of those men who expelled the kings from Rome" Caesar explained; he looked to Posca, as if telling him to explain more.

Posca did as he was told, "Brutus is a good-natured young man but he is also very impressionable. If he had Porcia Catonis whispering in his ear then he might take lead of the Boni, along with his brother-in-law Cassius, and the Julii party will be outnumbered. The majority of the senate are loyal to the memory of Cato—"the last of the Romans"—or allies of Cicero, and he always preferred Cato."

"But Porcia is his cousin, and she's such a sweet girl, she wouldn't…" Calpurnia began.

"I wouldn't be surprised if they already intend to marry, my dear" Caesar added, not with gravity but with a small smile. "That is the gossip in the senate at the moment; it is not only talk with the former Boni but with Cicero's sheep as well. Porcia is very sweet but she is also the type of woman that men of Brutus' calibre go for—he's a chip off the old block, I tell you."

"Did Brutus' father have a weak spot for the pretty girls with sob stories?" Calpurnia asked.

Caesar smirked, "Oh of course he did. How do you think he got Servilia? You could create a Greek play in five acts on her childhood alone."

-

Servilia went out to pray the next evening. That was all Porcia needed to know and all she wanted to know. She felt like rushing off to tell Brutus the good news—a couple of hours without the fear of her or her black soul watching them or judging their relationship. They didn't think about Claudia, whether she would see or not, but then nobody cared anyway. Porcia would have felt quite selfish ad she no been enjoying the moment.

It was nice to be able to talk in peace, to think in peace and do everything in peace. All the time, she felt so secure in her love and her place in life. Suddenly the conversation turned to the other day and Porcia was reminded of her talks with Pullo and Calpurnia, and Caesar.

"Who was that the other day?" he asked her.

Porcia paused and thought off the top of her, "Just someone who helped me when I was held captive. He was one of the soldiers who rescued me."

"Oh?" Brutus replied, only half listening—it was one of those days again. "Not a rival for your affections I should know about."

Porcia shook her head as she smiled; the very idea was ridiculous. "No, don't worry… there is only you at the moment" she lay her head against his shoulder. "You never know though, someone might come along and sweep me off my feet… but until then, you'll do."

"I'll have to keep an eye on you then" he replied with a smile. "There are too many men better then I am and not enough worse than me."

"True" Porcia conceded warmly. "But you imperfections are what makes you, you. And for some bizarre reason I love you. I explained all of that yesterday, remember?"

"Yes" he agreed, "but I better keep an eye on you anyway; I have an awful feeling that one day you'll realise there are other men out there better then me and abandon the sinking ship."

"Don't be silly"

"That's part of my personality; I can't change now" he replied comically, "Nor will I change for any woman."

"Good, I don't want you to be anything than what you want to be."

In those moments they were so close to kissing again, and it was around this time that Porcia thought the gods were cursing her this week—Sylvia, of course, rushed in—but the reason they hurriedly jumped to their feet was because beside her stood Octavia, Atia's daughter and Servilia's companion, and she had seen enough to incriminate them. At least Octavia was too good natured to tell.

Porcia smiled nodded, "Octavia; if you're here to see auntie then you should come back later—she isn't here right now."

"I-I know" Octavia jabbered out, "I wanted to see you."

Her eyes widened at that, "Me?" the other girl simply nodded and Porcia went on. "Well, fine; what's this about, Octavia?"

"Err, alone if you don't mind."

Seeing no reason to argue, she glanced at Brutus who seemed to gesture his hand sarcastically towards the door. The two ladies left through it and Porcia motioned Octavia towards where her room was. Once inside, she turned and offered Octavia another smile. The young woman looked about her—the room was very modest. "So, what's wrong, Octavia?"

The young woman looked nervously down at her fingers as she twirled her thumbs in a tense pink circle. "Porcia, does you aunt lie often?"

Porcia raised an eyebrow, "That's an odd question: define what you mean by 'lie'."

"I mean 'say things' to make you do what she wants."

"Well, she'll threat to beat you or something" Porcia replied, trying to think of lies her aunt had ever told. "She only lies if she's done something wrong and wants to pin the blame to someone else."

Octavia paused for a minute and thought. The only way she could get a proper answer was to ask Porcia directly, "Do you remember by husband Glabius?"

"Faintly, I didn't really know him" Porcia replied, wondering what on earth Octavia was getting at. "What about him?"

"Would you say he was murdered?"

Porcia thought for a moment—she was the wrong person to be asking that question as she had neither known or really Glabius who wasn't an especially nice man unless he became fond of you, like he did with Octavia. Otherwise he was a pig of a man and not the sort Porcia liked to socialise with. Porcia had always expected that Atia killed him—the affair between Octavia and Glabius following their divorce was not quiet. All knew that Atia hated Glabius and it was a very Atia thing to do: killing people for no reason, in a cowardly way.

"It's possible" she finally replied.

Octavia paused for a minute, thinking of the right words to say. It was hard to speak to Porcia who she hadn't really spoken to since they were children. Back then they were fairly close being of similar age. Now, there was a difference between them: Porcia was virginal and Octavia was or could be dire; Porcia was strong and Octavia was weak; and Porcia had courage but Octavia had no will. They were too different to be close; for Octavia, her old friend was a bitter reminder of how weak she was.

"Your aunt told me that my mother killed Glabius" Octavia finally said, voice shaking nervously. "If you were me; who would you believe?"

Porcia hated making other people's choices for them: "Well, who do you believe?"

"Just answer my question!" Octavia ordered. Porcia lowered her eyes on Octavia; she didn't like being ordered to do _anything_. But there was no fun in arguing with someone like Octavia, so Porcia thought about her question. Well, she didn't like Servilia because of her harsh treatment of her as a child by locking her in cupboards and hitting her if she did the slightest thing wrong. That said, it was a lot more than her flighty stepmother did, a woman who just couldn't be bothered to raise Porcia. At least Servilia made the effort, even if it was a nasty one. Atia on the other hand was someone Porcia disliked anyway because of her nature. Atia could malicious and two-faced without having any reason to be so, as opposed to Servilia who really only cursed people when they annoyed her. They were both horrible people either way and Porcia didn't trust either of them.

"Neither; they're both bad eggs" Porcia replied finally. "Why did my aunt tell you something like that? When it comes to people she likes, she normally keeps the unpleasant things to herself." Octavia paused, certainly not wanting to tell Porcia what Servilia had asked of her. A woman such as Porcia would find it disgusting and no doubt would be angered at Octavia for even considering it. The watchful eyes of Porcia noticed this reaction and came to her own conclusion that the demands were unreasonable. "If I were you, I'd discredit the whole thing."

"Do you think my mother killed Glabius?" Octavia questioned sternly.

"It doesn't matter what I think…"

"Do you think my mother killed Glabius?" she said again, this time screaming out the words, over and over again. "Do you think she killed him?"

Porcia gritted her teeth, deciding to be honest rather than tell a lie. She felt bad when she told lies, even for the good. "Yes" she snapped. The expression of the woman in from of her became weak and feeble, "Happy now?" Octavia stumbled, trying to find words to say but unable to. Now Porcia felt bad about getting angry and saying the truth. "But that's just what I think—I also think that you should forget the past, whatever it is, and move on. You should stop speaking to auntie. Whatever she has asked you it is unreasonable and you are clearly in moral conflict over it."

"But she's kind to me…"

"That's what she does" Porcia explained solemnly. "She is kind to people but as soon as they're useful for something she charms them into doing what she wants."

Octavia felt a little defensive, "And are you much better?"

Porcia frowned "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Servilia and I have seen you" Octavia said in her sternest voice. "I saw you just now."

"I don't follow"

"Yes you do, you just don't want to admit it" the young woman snapped. Porcia was surprised; it was only moments ago the same girl was questioning Servilia's motives and now she was defending her. "You behave so virtuous but you're no better than my mother!"

"Or you, it seems" Porcia retorted, angered. "Well I'll have you know I'm not stupid either. I know that you're more than just my aunt's companion. And I'm telling you now: she is using you to get back at your mother for her follies. Whatever things your mother may have done, consider the possibility she did it for your sake. Servilia does things for her own sake, not other people. I know her better than you do; keep on like this and you'll just get hurt! If I were you, I'd stop what you're doing right now. It's not only hurting you but it is spoiling your virtue."

"Yes" Octavia replied with a scowl. "And you're so virtuous you're having an affair with your own first cousin. If that's your idea of virtue then you have no say in the matter."

Porcia just lost it then, "You know what? I didn't ask to give my say in your personal life you asked me for my opinion. Just because it isn't the one you want to hear is no reason to start insulting me for crimes that are untrue. I thought I'd warn you ahead of time before you do something stupid to hurt your mother, your brother, my aunt or yourself… but this is the person you've become then I don't want to help you."

She paused, feeling herself shake with anger—not at Octavia but at her naivety—she never thought there would be someone more naïve than herself. "In fact, I hope you screw up your life, and then maybe I'll get an apology. The least I deserve is that. Now go away, you've given me a headache."

Porcia rested her forehead in her hands and closed her eyes. There were throbbing pains in her temples—she always got them when she lost her temper. By closing her eyes, she placed herself in the dark. That normally reduced the pain. Unlike Servilia, she couldn't come down from her anger by going on a rampage, Porcia had to strew. By the time she looked up, Octavia was long gone. She rubbed her eyes and received a knock at the door. She sighed, "Come in."

Sylvia shrank into the room and brought a smile to Porcia's lips "You actually knocked, Sylvia?"

"I'm sorry I keep bursting in like that, ma'am" she said quickly. "It's just habit."

"It's alright" she said as if she were speaking to a friend, rather than a slave. She couldn't be too angry at Sylvia, but she hoped her slave would drop the habit soon. Unlike some women, Porcia liked to have alone time when even slaves and pets weren't supposed to invade. "Is that all?"

"No, ma'am" Sylvia replied. "Caesar's slave is here to see you."

She almost groaned: she'd had enough of Caesar for one week, and enough of the Julii for a life time, and the appearance of Posca was not something she was happy about. She sighed again and followed Sylvia out to the atrium where Caesar's short little fellow was waiting. She folded her arms and raised her brows: "Well?"

"Caesar has considered what you said to him yesterday and has decided to put a stop to the attack on Lucius Vorenus" Posca said in his normal intellectual way. Sometimes Porcia thought he was more intelligent than Caesar was. It had often crossed her mind that is was Posca, rather than Caesar, that wrote Caesar's commentaries on the Gallic Wars that were recently published. Not to mention that disgusting piece of writing on her father, _Anti-Cato_. "He intends to go there himself to visit Lucius Vorenus on political manners. The sight of the soldiers will no doubt discourage the enemy to back away."

Porcia nodded before beginning to turn away. Although she looked casual, she was actually quite relieved. "Good for him. If that is all you came to tell me then goodbye; I have things to do."

"There is" Posca began "one other thing, if you don't mind."

She turned on her toes and walked back to Posca, resuming her former position. "Yes?"

"In regards to yesterday, he hopes that your discontent towards him will not discourage you from friendship with his wife" Posca said carefully.

"Of course not!" Porcia replied confidently. "My problems with Caesar's position wouldn't be a barrier between Calpurnia and I, and I was intending to continue being her friend regardless of Caesar's feelings anyway. It is nice to find a woman who is moral in this city, to be honest."

Posca made a smile that would only belong to Caesar's slave: "Caesar will be most thrilled about that."

"Good for him"

"Finally" Posca said, rummaging about his tunic for his bag which was used to carry letters. He pulled out a very short letter and handed it to Porcia. "The lady Calpurnia asked me to give you this. It is from your stepson."

Porcia took the letter and ran her fingers over the seal; it was the seal of Bibulus. That meant that Caesar allowed him to inherit Bibulus' fortune. She had no doubt that Lucius' real mother, Bibulus' second wife, would be pleased that her son gained the entire fortune while the first wife had no sons left to inherit. Then again, Lucius didn't like his mother. She smiled at Posca and thanked him. "Tell your mistress that I am grateful."

"I will do that, ma'am" the slave replied. He then turned and scurried his way out the door. Porcia had always thought Posca scurried rather than walked. It was probably because he was so short. It was funny enough to make Porcia smirk.

She turned around and went to her room to read the very short letter. On the outside of the letter in Calpurnia's writing, saying it had been given to her by the messenger to pass on to her today. Porcia carefully pulled the seal apart and read what Lucius had to say for himself. He stated that he was doing very well and that she didn't have to worry about him. Her brother Marcus, Scipio's son Salvito and Scribonia were all doing well. Scribonia recently had another baby, a girl, and was healthy. Lucius that he was studying politics with his cousins and complained of how boring it was. He then went on to state that the most interesting of the things he read was, ironically, _Origines_. This pleased Porcia greatly; her stepson was reading the works of the great Censor, her great-great-grandfather. Fianlly, he wrote that 'Uncle Marcus' sent his love and informed her that he wasn't drinking. This pleased Porcia all the more; her brother was still off the wine.

After reading this, Porcia found herself in the highest spirits she had been in since she found the courage to tell Brutus the truth about her feelings. Well, almost as higher spirits, but the letter from Lucius certainly cheered her up after all of the fighting, arguments and plans she had to come up with. When she finally put the letter down, she realised just how tired she was. Not that she wanted to sleep, she just wanted to relax, lose herself in the evening as it rolled in.

She pulled herself out of her room and back to the side of the garden where she had been before Sylvia cam marching in with Octavia in tow. Still there was Brutus reading whatever it was he was reading; she didn't really pay attention to thank. She just sank into a reclining position in the chair next to him and let out a great sigh. He glanced up and smiled, "You look run off your feet."

"That's because I am" she replied, pulling herself up into a seating position. "I have been for the past two days. It's just been one thing after the other. Why can't life just leave me alone?"

"Because you can't leave life alone" he replied profoundly with a smile. "Otherwise you'd be dead and no one here is in a hurry to meet death quite yet. Then when we do we'll all probably moan because death doesn't leave us alone."

Porcia managed to smile, "You're right. There is no satisfying mankind, is there? I wish I weren't a human but an animal; they don't have to make choices or deal with business."

"They have to deal with people" Brutus replied, placing the scroll down. "In a sense that's even worse; if you were a mouse for example you'd have to face the danger of being killed by a person or a domestic animal everyday. Either you risk going into the one space of the kitchen and be caught trying to feed yourself, or not go out and starve to death in your hole out of fear of being caught."

"I'd try to take the food" Porcia replied, half listening. "The death is more likely to be quick and painless. It hurts to starve to death I'm told."

"True, but it takes a lot of courage to march out into the flanks of cat's claws and people's feet" he said with a dreamy voice imaging what it was to be a mouse. "You might be too scared."

"I wouldn't be a mouse anyway" she stated. "I'd be a cat."

"Why a cat of all things?" he asked.

"They eat the mice that make the choices" she replied with a smile, "and they're asleep more than they're awake. And their jobs are good too—mouse catcher, I think I'd be quite good at that." They both stayed silent for a little while before Brutus made a slight laugh. Porcia shook her head and said: "Why are we talking about mice and cats?"

"You started it" he said jokily. "You're the one who said she didn't want to be human."

"I want to be whatever you want to be" she replied, laying her head against his shoulder. "So if you want to be human, that's fine with me."

Brutus looked into space for a moment before smiling again, "I think I'd make a good dog. I have the personality for it."

Porcia scowled and looked up at him "What do you mean?"

"I heel to my master, accept his favour happily, and when Caesar says 'Jump!' I say 'How high?'" he said, comically but with a tinge of bitter truth.

Her scowl became deeper, even if it was true she felt it her duty to assure him otherwise, "Don't be silly!"

"I'm not being silly" he replied with a smile, linking fingers with hers palm to back. "And don't lie by saying that you never thought so too."

Porcia didn't say anything, though she nearly did. Okay, she had thought that it was a cowardly thing to surrender to Caesar and then play-up to him. But she also found it quite brave to surrender to Caesar when he could have been killed. She didn't say that though because Cicero had done the same. And Cicero was not one of her favourite people. In the end she just sighed. "Well, if he makes you jump too high, growl at him."

"And if he still says 'jump'?" he asked, playing with her attached hand.

"Then we'll bite him."

They spoke for a little while longer before they bided each other goodnight. They said it several times before they finally parted. In the name of virtue, they gave each other one chaste kiss on the lips and retired to their rooms, swallowing their passions for another day. At least Porcia knew that she would be dreaming soon, and she hoped against all hope her passions didn't interrupt her dreams also; she had a habit of talking!

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Hope it was worth the wait and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. I hope you liked some of the hints and ironic bit in here. I just had to add the bite thing in. I thought it was a brilliant irony, foreshadowing what will happen... if you didn't get it. I hope for the best!


	15. 2: Novus fabrica: I

Thank you people, it was lovely to have all the reviews and I was thrilled to see how much you all liked it. I was quite surprised at how many people wanted to have a consummation between Brutus and Porcia, at least with my friends. Tell me all, just how popular is that idea with you on here? On another note, I am proud to say that I have written up the final chapter of this story. Sadly I have not completely written the parts in between. What is does mean is that I know what I'm aiming for, where the story is ending. For the record when it is the finally chapter I will inform you, but it's notanytime soon.

I'd like to take a moment to thank Sophie for a moment that helped me a lot with the chapter despite all her troubles. Also, if you are a "fly-by" or reviewer without an account and you want information about updates then leave your email in a review and I will happily send notifications to you. This storyline comes in several parts as the original chapter was getting to be too long, I have chopped it into several parts. I'm not sure how many yet. So far it is just two - the second part I will post next week, like the airing of a TV show, isn't it? It might go up to three parts.

Pullo is starting to be doubtful about life in Rome. Mark Antony comes face to face with Porcia for the first and is witness to Caesar's plan to seperate Brutus and Porcia, who are starting to get frustrated with the nature of their relationship. Meanwhile, the senate eagerly awaits the divorce of Claudia.

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Julius Caesar knew that death was on its way to grab him at any moment. It had always favoured him ever since he was a boy. During his early years he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of Sulla, leading him into the hands of Illyrian pirates who would have happily gutted him had it not been for Fortuna saving him again. Then there was the conquest of Gaul. Caesar had camped, ate and slept just a hundred yards away from three hundred thousand Gauls who wanted to kill him. Caesar wondered whether he had dodged the arrow too many times and that the gods wouldn't bother to save him anymore. He had done very little for them recently, with the exception of Venus and Mars.

His spies told him that what remained of the Pompeian faction were starting to gather around what was left of the Boni, the nickname for what Cicero called "the Good Men", the old republican faction, the Optimates. Cato had been their leader in all but name and now they were waiting to see if either his son or nephew would take the reins. Young Cato had no time to lead the party and greatly disliked politics taking the life of a soldier, much to Cato's disappointment.

Brutus was the clear choice having become the _pater familias_ of their family following the death of Cato who was his uncle. But he had never been a member of the Optimates. When he first joined the senate he disapproved of both Caesar and Cato, allying himself with Cicero's faction, the Moderates, 'affectionately' referred to by Antony as 'the Sheep'. In other words, Brutus didn't really have a political faction he supported. One of the chief reasons for that was because he lacked interest in politics and had been bullied into the senate by his mother and her expectations of him.

Yet despite not being with the Boni, he certainly didn't support 'the Populares', now the Caesarians, and had opposed the Triumvirate between Caesar, Pompey and Crassus. Caesar had naturally tried to curry favour from him to make his plans seem less dirty, but the young man said that he could do nothing but oppose an alliance against the republic. Caesar had blamed Cato for that, putting ideas into Brutus' head, but today he had to think of now and what was influencing Brutus now. Cato was dead but his ideas were not, and still held first place in the mind of a creature with a much deadlier bite than any snake.

That was, of course, Cato's daughter Porcia. Caesar had always believed that woman would be the death of many men if she could get them to want something enough. He started to think that the woman was a witch, that she had cast an evil spell over the men around her. The gentlemen of the senate were enchanted with her personality and her strength of character. The old men were in love with her and her ideals. It was only a matter of time before she would trap Brutus in some wicked fashion and then, Caesar would lose his best friend forever.

She certainly had a way with the men; she had even convinced Caesar himself to take himself down the Lower Aventine and stop Lucius Vorenus from being killed by Erastes Fulmen and his men. She even seemed to know that Erastes was carrying out some wicked chain murders on his behalf. Was there anything she didn't know or anyone she didn't affect? She could get anyone to do what she wanted if she put her mind to it. Caesar knew he would have to amend that—he had to stop her getting any more power. She would obtain that power through Brutus, so he would cut her off from Brutus. He wasn't sure how yet, but he would, and very soon.

His men stomped down the narrow streets of Rome towards a certain insula. As the loud drumming marched into the ears he passed, one of his lictors cried out his piece: _"Here comes the consul Gaius Julius Caesar, son of Venus; Imperator of the Gallic Legions." _Stopping in front of the bewildered plebeian, Caesar smiled, standing proper and kingly:

"_Salve, Lucius Vorenus."_

Vorenus fell to the floor in a state of shock, trying to put the swords to one side. They had been expecting someone else, certainly not Caesar. The dictator looked at the weapons scattered all over the place realising that Porcia had been right—a mini Aventine war was planned to take place in the courtyard of this insula. He kept his benevolent smile as Vorenus pulled himself to his feet and stood straight.

"Sir, I am deeply honoured by your presence here" he said, his words shaking but still stoical. "To what do I owe such an honour?"

"I found out your residence from the Lady Porcia" Caesar explained in his rich, patrician, stylish voice. Vorenus nodded, thinking of the lady in question. She had reminded him so much of Niobe, probably a woman closer to who he wished Niobe was like, being a stoic and a republican. It surprised Caesar that Porcia was still in contact with the pair even after they saved her nearly a year ago. "I have come to you with a proposition, if you will listen."

"Of course, sir" Vorenus replied, amazed but honourable.

"Then let us go inside your residence and discuss it, shall we?" he said looking about at the many flats in the insulars. "Now, which of these is your lovely home?"

"Err… this way, sir" Vorenus said turning to show him the stairs.

Niobe and Eirene were reduced to girlish bowing, stumbling backwards towards the stairs, bumping into each other before Niobe shooed Eirene up and speeding up after her so they could tidy up the house in the few seconds they had before Caesar would ascend the flight. Vorenus led Caesar towards the home, a dog and some chickens trotting all over the place, the stairs littered with hay. Caesar seemed to stride over them all without batting an eyelid or twisting his face with disgust. I was remarkable, especially to the slowly growing crowd, assuring themselves that with Caesar here Erastes Fulmen wouldn't be unleashing hell any time soon.

Niobe and Eirene had managed to close the curtains of the messy rooms so that all there was to see was the table, which Eirene had cleared that very morning. It was a good job she had. Caesar coming to your house; it was ten times better than the best gladiator coming! A billion times better than the fastest charioteer coming to your house.

So, within moments they had motioned Caesar into a chair and they stood in front of him, beholding the great dictator, surrounded by his guards and lictors. Eirene was standing in a doorway, Niobe beaming excitedly and Vorenus standing like an obedient slave waiting for his master's command. Below with the crowds stood Pullo, waiting to see what the mighty Caesar had to say. He looked around the house, thinking how quaint yet well presented it was. He wasn't used to sitting in such bleak conditions though, being a Julii. Without being too cheeky it was better than how Caesar imagined his old enemy Cato lived his life.

He looked over at the standing couple, _"Your wife is very beautiful. Her name?"_

"_Niobe, sir."_

Vorenus gave her a tiny nudge, which she understood completely. Falling to her knees she crawled at Caesar's feet, keeping her head down, as if in the presence of a king. She was in the presence of a king, a king in all but name. Caesar rested a hand on her head and spoke like a man befitting that title. _"Rise, Niobe."_

Smiling, Niobe got to her feet, like a young girl who had come face to face with her favourite soldier. She stepped back as Vorenus spoke again, _"Would you honour us by drinking our water?"_

"_I'm happy to do so,"_ replied Caesar, still polite. Niobe turned and nodded the command to Eirene who went to get the jug. Caesar then nodded to Vorenus as if he was at Eirene's level, his slave to command. All the people it seemed were slaves to a king. Caesar imagined that's where the last king went wrong—he let the people realise they were free-slaves. _"Please sit."_

Vorenus slowly sat himself on the bench to Caesar's right, still bewildered by the fact that it was Caesar was sitting opposite him. The commander didn't waste any time in saying what he wanted to say and saw no point in making Vorenus and his eager wife wait any longer then they had to.

"_I have always held you in high regard, Vorenus,"_ he began, _"and I am told you are a man of respect among your people here." _

_Well, Porcia had said it but didn't mean it was true_, he thought silently. _Though it probably is true, quite a crowd has gathered outside._

"_I hope so"_ Vorenus replied.

"_That being so, I am come to ask you to stand for magistrate of Lower Aventine,"_ he stated with his relaxed expression as if he were making a haggle with the merchant, _"On my slate," _he finished. Niobe served the water in a small and simple cup, although it was naturally the best the Vorenii had to offer. _"Thank you"_ said Caesar quickly before turning to Vorenus again, his expression certain but questioning. _"Well?"_

There seemed to be a long silence between the pair and the only sound was that of Niobe walking around, placing the jug down and standing at Vorenus' side. Caesar took that moment to look at Vorenus. If one could look like a stoic then surely he did. He had the hair and clothes of a stoic. He reminded him of a young Cato. He wasn't surprised if the Lady Porcia had taken an interest in him as, like her father, she always had a soft spot for fellow stoics.

The flabbergasted Vorenus tried to find the right words, taking a few seconds before he chose them: _"I am deeply honoured by your presence her, sir, deeply honoured. But respectfully, I must decline."_

Niobe's face showed disappointment, Caesar noted as he went on. He really was a stoic. It was like asking Cato's son to speak against the republic. He recalled the day when he had sent Vorenus and Pullo to scout the hills and defence points around Rome and Antony had told him that Vorenus was a 'stone-wall Catonian': _"So you still disapprove of my actions?"_

"_Sir, with respect, your politics are not mine"_ Vorenus replied, a face of both temptation and yet the will to stand up for his beliefs.

"_I am aware of that"_ Caesar replied.

Niobe's face still looking desperate from Caesar's point of view; Vorenus had his back to it all, _"Were I a magistrate, I would have to speak."_

"_And you will not speak"_ he said with a neutral face but in the same light and reasoning manner he would if he were talking to someone like Porcia, _"In favour of a tyrant?"_

"_I will not speak against my beliefs."_

As if to ignore that last comment he looked at the desperate Niobe and nodded a compliment, holding his cup of water. _"Delicious"_ he then placed it down and began to reason with the ginger stoic—he favourite kind of stoic. _"You misjudge me. I am not tyrant. I have obtained dictator's powers legally. And will return those powers as soon as I am able. I will not rest until Rome is as she was in the Golden Age. I cannot succeed alone. Will you join me?"_

Caesar then offered him that took—the one that annoyed Porcia so much. His how-about-it or you-know-you-want-to look he gave to people of all levels when he wanted them to do as he said. Vorenus felt like a beetle caught between the two hands of a child, about to be killed, Niobe on one side and Caesar on the other. One was begging him to accept and the other charming him.

There was a long silence as Vorenus looked between the beggar and the offer, realising that if he didn't accept this position neither of the pair would forgive him. Niobe might be able to get over it, but it seemed so rude to say no to Caesar…

Moments later the lictors all came out from the small flat with Caesar and Vorenus following. Grabbing his wrist, he got to the balcony, and Caesar threw his arm up taking Vorenus' arm with him. The crowds below cheered and screamed and applauded. Niobe feeling proud and smug and cheerful at the same time; Vorenus looking guilty but forcing it back, putting on a brave face and Caesar swore his award-winning smile as the crowds chanted his name. _"Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!" _over and over again _"Caesar! Caesar! Caesar!"_

Pullo watched his friend and at first felt happy for them. They had narrowly escaped death and didn't even have to use a sword. But then it hit him. He stopped clapping and thought what this would do to their friendship. They were no longer on the same level. They were no longer on the same slate. Vorenus had spoken so often of his disapproval towards Caesar… what did this mean? Was Vorenus selling out his honour?

And was when he realised…

This hadn't been a random event nor had it been Caesar's express choice to go there. Had it been up to him he would have brought Vorenus to him not gone to Vorenus. It was Porcia; she had done this, talked Caesar into going there and saving them. Slipping out of the crowds he made his way through the threshold as into the streets, not sure where he wanted to go, although he knew where he would probably end up. After all, he had a thank you to give.

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It had been a quiet afternoon in the households of many patricians, seemingly peaceful, and a nice day to just sit around the house and relax. It was oddly warm for that time of year and there was a nice breeze on top of the Palatine hill. All over they sat in their living areas reading, talking, eating, and sleeping. In Porcia's case it was sleeping and in Brutus' case it was reading. At first they had both been reading, or rather talking and pretending to read. After a while Porcia fell asleep, very peaceful and content in her lover's arms as well as her dreams, and Brutus didn't attempt to wake her up because she seemed to peaceful and content.

However, when he heard a loud bang in the atrium, he leapt up thinking it was his mother, pushing Porcia up also who woke up with a shocked start. Brutus quickly sat in the chair opposite her and pretended to read silently while Porcia turned her attention to the banging, still trying to figure out where she was. Strangely enough instead of seeing Servilia crash and bang her way into the living room, it was Claudia who entered looking sour and annoyed. She had been so quiet since her father died and you barely heard a peep out of her. It caught the attention of Brutus also, how couldn't help commenting on his normally quiet wife's titanic behaviour.

"Gods below, Claudia" he said with his usual cheery voice, "what on earth is wrong?"

"Like you care!" she snapped back, throwing her veil to the floor and several slaves scrabbling to pick it up.

"Don't say that" Brutus began.

"You don't, do you?" she said in an accusing voice. "You don't care!"

"Doesn't mean I can't be polite and ask after your troubles" he replied defensively before looking back to the book he wasn't reading, trying to remember what the whole thing was about. "So what is wrong?"

Claudia sat in front of a weaving machine and began working quickly and vigorously before, disgustedly saying: "If you really did care you'd be denying it by now…"

"What was that?" said Brutus, finally remembering where he was, not looking up from his book.

Claudia noticed this and huffed, turning her eyes on Porcia who looked back at her. They kept each others gaze for a while before Claudia looked back to her work a little more calmly, "There's a man at the door to see you by the way."

"A man" Porcia stated, "Does this man have a name?"

"I don't know, I tripped over him on the way in" Claudia replied, giving her the look that normally only Servilia made. Brutus picked up on it too and shifted a little bit. He had a good idea now on what was bothering her. "I told him that I'd let you know he's here."

Porcia nodded and smiled turning to Brutus, "It's probably Pullo."

"_Again?" _Brutus said with a scowl, "What exactly do you do for this man?"

"I'm his… friend, I suppose" Porcia said, pulling herself to her feet and making her way to the atrium. "Back in a minute."

She made her away out the door that led to the street rather than the one, which led to the courtyard, the way that Pullo normally came. It was, after all, the closest door to the path way near the road between the Palatine and the Aventine. She then worried for a moment. Did this mean that her plan didn't work? Had Caesar gone to Vorenus' house or had he been late? She wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't sent someone at all. Stepping out, she saw the back of the tall, well-built soldier. Clearing her throat, she caught his attention. At first he looked so down that Porcia feared Vorenus was dead, but then he smiled.

Porcia swallowed, "Are you alright?"

"Oh aye!" Pullo said, nodding his head as if convincing himself. "Our man came 'round just now. Erastes' boys came to the door, saw the guards, and ran away. Caesar offered Vorenus the chance to run for magistrate, and he accepted."

The young woman's eyes widened and she laughed, placing both her hands against her mouth. She felt like a success, and was ecstatic about it all. Pullo looked at her oddly for a moment before he cracked another smile, amused and cheered by the laughing girl. After pulling herself together, she dried her eyes and grinned at him.

"Oh, Pullo! I am _glad_ that it turned out alright but… the idea that… the idea of Caesar going to a plebeian's house… sitting there and talking to Vorenus…" she said, still partly laughing "It's is funny. Caesar supports plebeians, doesn't mean he enjoys spending time with them. Of course, Vorenus isn't a normal plebeian."

"No, he's not" Pullo said, smiling but lowering his head.

Porcia noticed this, reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the movement, quite surprised. She pulled it away before placing it on the shoulder again and forced a smile, "Are _you_ alright? Vorenus sounds well and no doubt his wife is cheerful, his daughters are well, but what about you? You seem so down and lost and I can see in your eyes you are troubled by something… is it Vorenus? Is there something else wrong?"

"No!" Pullo replied quickly, nodding his head and smiling half-heartedly. "No, it's nothing like that. I'm happy for him, and me, well I'm doing fine. Getting good money from the butchers shop…"

Porcia titled her head and smiled, "I bet you aren't." They then both exchanged a look, his was surprised at her insight while hers was that of a concerned friend, and it moved him. Her eyes were just like his mother's, so was her smile. In time, he thought, she'd make a good mother and hopefully would live long enough to see her child grow up. She stepped forward and sighed, "Do you have some debts or something like that? If you are having trouble I could… I have money if you need help…"

"Oh, no, no I couldn't ask any more help of you" Pullo quickly said. It wasn't like him to turn down money but he couldn't ask any more of her. "Thank you for everything you've done for Vorenus. Anyway, I should be getting back, ma'am…"

As he turned to leave she watched quietly before speaking out, "Is it your sweetheart, the slave girl?"

He turned to look at her. She stood in the street in a manner that no patrician woman should or would: bare-feet, loosely tied back hair, no shawl, just wearing a modest and very stoical day dress which was made out of a coarse grey material, coloured only by a green and pink ribbon around her waist. It was no better than some of the things Niobe wore on special occasions. She was still very lady-like despite the fact that her imperfections reminded Pullo of the imperfections of a little girl.

"Am I right?" Porcia asked finally.

Pullo moved to reply, breathing air, opening his mouth before he stopped dead and looked at her again. He then smiled again and shook his head, and stepped back. "Nah, it don't matter, ma'am. Thank you." Before she could get him with another word, he strode off like a true legionnaire on the march, trying to keep up and in pace with his other soldiers despite the fact he walked alone down the Palatine streets.

Porcia watched him go, tempted to call after him before he was gone before she could even think to say his name. Confused in her mind, she leant against the door and placed her face in her hand briefly, as if someone waking up, coming back to reality. After a long, loud sigh she re-entered the house and back to the living room. Keeping her eyes down as she walked back she feared just how Claudia was acting and almost expected to walk back into an argument or battle. As she entered she heard nothing, making her speed up.

When she walked in she found the room was empty. She placed her hands on her hips and scowled. How long had she been gone—five minutes? Claudia she had expected to disappear very quickly but Brutus not being there was very discouraging. She was angry, as she didn't know how to act at being left alone. She huffed in the same manner that Claudia had done, stood in front of the couch and fell backwards onto it, slumping down like an unsatisfied child.

"I have been abandoned!" she announced to no one.

She looked at her right hand to see one of her nails was broken. She put it down and looked at the other hand, touching birthmark she had at the base of her wedding finger. As she did this, she bobbed her feet up and down before lifting up her right leg to look at her foot. She twisted it around, wiggled her toes, and tried to think of something to do. She wasn't bored but wished she had something to do; she closed her eyes and thought about picking up on the dream she was having before Brutus had woken her up suddenly. It had been an interesting dream at the time, like a puzzle, and was disappointed that in waking up she could hardly remember what happened in it.

"Back are you?"

Without pulling herself up, she twisted herself around and looked behind her to see that Brutus had returned, bookless for once. He made his way back to where he was sitting before and sat looking at her. Porcia pulled herself up and sat opposite him with her legs crossed. She grabbed and piece of her hair and raised an eyebrow, "Is there something you wanted to say?"

"Is there something _you_ want to say?" he asked, smiling.

She shook her head and smiled back, "Apart from the fact you abandoned me."

"You abandoned me with my wife, now that is cruel!"

Porcia kept smiling, "It's not like I left you alone with your mother. Where did she go?"

He shrugged and his face became more serious, "I don't know. I got up to put the book away not long after you left and now she's gone. Suppose she's gone somewhere to stew or something… you know why she's angry, don't you?"

"It doesn't take a genius to figure out" she replied with an equally troubled face. "There have been rumours going around, about you and me. It's only naturally that she'd hear them and get the wrong end of the stick… together with the fact she lives in this house with you. If anything, I judge her for not being more hostile, or going to you to make you get rid of me like Calpurnia did with your mother."

"That's different," Brutus replied, pointing to her as if to make a point. "The rumours were true with my mother and Caesar. With us they're just… over dramatising fact… to get thrills out of the idea that the virtuous actually copulate."

"Yes, that's true" Porcia said, uncrossing her legs and placing them to the floor. She rested her hands on her knees and paused before going on, "About that, Brutus can I ask you—"

"Before you go on, can I say something?"

"Oh, of course, go ahead."

He mirrored her position except he rested his elbows on his knees, sitting forward and looking directly at her. "This man that keeps popping up here now and then, who exactly is he?"

Puzzled, she shrugged, "Just a veteran, why?"

"What would you be doing with a veteran?"

"He's one of the men who saved me when I was taken captive during the civil wars" she explained, still wondering why he was asking. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"Why?!"

"I just…" he said, trying to justify his asking, "think that it's little odd that you are still in contact with this man and that he seems to turn up on our doorstep every now and then."

"He's only been here twice," Porcia said, wondering why he was so questionable. She then smiled, titled her head and batted his leg with her foot. "Are you jealous?"

"No" he said defensively, looking away and trying to conceal a smile. She batted his again with her foot and he turned to look at her. "I'm not jealous, so don't flatter yourself!"

"Why not?" she asked, she stretched her legs out in front of her and slowly moved her right foot closer to him. It worked its way up his leg till it rested on his knee, "If I don't flatter myself who will?"

He barely heard that, distracted by her foot. He gently lifted it and put it to the ground, "Stop doing that. It's childish play."

"Depends what you mean by 'child's play'" she said with a playful smile. "I am only teasing you, Brutus. For the way you act you'd think no one had ever teased you before. No child would tease the way I am now. I am teasing in the fashion becoming of a woman."

"Why are you teasing me?" he asked, but stopped her before she could speak, "And don't say it's because I'm jealous, because I'm not."

She titled her head before pulling herself to her feet and standing in front of him, "I suppose you're right. You're not jealous. It's not like I'd back my things and run off with the ex-soldier. I don't think he has any money so I don't think we'd get very far. No, I suppose I'm teasing you so I can keep you interested in me."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at her, "What do you mean?"

The demon inside cried out again, ordering her to lean forward and kiss him. She obeyed the demons, placing her hands to his face and pulling him to her, offering him her lips. It always seemed to burn their souls when their lips did meet, and the demons inside both of them begged for more and more. Those demons didn't like being denied what they wanted. But they would be denied. Porcia would make sure of that. As long as Brutus was married to Claudia, as long as they were unmarried, all she intended to offer were her lips. Secretly, she hoped that the denial of the rest might help nudge him toward the right course of action. She didn't have the courage to ask him herself.

Breaking it, she quickly stood and smiled, "Well, I'm going to get some fresh air and leave you to your own devices."

As she left, he sat there dazzled and not knowing what to do. See when she put it like that, he did feel all the more eager to get rid of Claudia and marry Porcia. The question was timing, when would there ever be a good time to divorce Claudia? Never, or it felt like never. But he had to, he just to soon… if he didn't do it soon he feared that Porcia would leave, go and live with their Aunt Porcia, and then he'd never kiss her again let alone anything else.

Of course the thing that nagged at him most was the reaction of three people; his brother-in-law, Appius Claudius Pulcher; his best friend Julius Caesar who would surely be furious by such a marriage… the third was his mother, Servilia.

She was going to hit the roof.

-

In the senate there seemed to be a lot of talking. The talking was about Caesar and his plans for Rome and the rest of the talking seemed to centre around who would be the next leader of the Boni. The Caesarians feared it, the Catonians argued about it and the Sheep wanted it. Cicero had it on good authority that the Pompeians had their money on a marriage—a marriage between the daughter of the last true Roman, Marcus Porcius Cato, and his nephew. The fact that it was semi-incestuous didn't seem to bother them, even traditionalists. If anything they thought it wonderful—the two sides of Livia Drusa's marriages, the Servilii and the Porcii together as one family, united. It was something that Quintus Servilius Caepio, Cato's beloved elder brother, had always secretly wanted. Rumour was at the time of course that he wanted to engage Brutus and Porcia in order that their descendants would inherit his family fortune he had inherited from his cruel and selfish father.

Even before first, second and third cousin marriages became legal ten years ago it was rumoured that family practised semi inbreeding with the other members of their family branch… fourth and fifth cousins. The Junii were especially known for it, but then they had too—Servilia herself had married two distant cousins. Cato, ever the traditionalist had made sure, however, to marry women with no family connection whatsoever. That wasn't very hard considering the Porcii family's obscure background, but then he had bloodlines via the Livians, the Claudians, the Aemilians, and faintly the Junian line. He picked his wives very carefully.

Yes, everyone was talking about the revival of the Boni and waited patiently to hear when Brutus' divorce from Claudia would happen. They suspected it would be soon, especially since the mourning days for Claudia's father Appius Claudius Pulcher were finally over. It seemed everyone knew about the prospect of divorce and the hope of a remarriage to the beloved daughter of the Last Roman and father of virtue.

Everyone that is except Appius Claudius Pulcher;

That was a force to be reckoned with! He was notorious for his loud voice and troublesome nature. Although he didn't get himself into trouble the same way as his father did with corruption and bribes, he enjoyed hiding behind his millions of pieces of gold as well as the fact that Marcus Junius Brutus was his brother-in-law. He and his cousin of the same name normally sat next to each other in the senate and watched as everyone else gossiped like old women.

Cicero, Cassius and Casca sat above them, staring at the other senators shaking hands and asking after each other's wives. Casca sighed and leant over to speak in the two gentlemen's ears: "Strange isn't it? With all the talk about divorce between Pulcher's sister and Brutus you'd think he'd have confronted Brutus by now."

"How do we know he hasn't?" Cicero said this while glancing over at Cassius, yet to speak, knowing that if there had been confrontation between Pulcher and Brutus he'd know about it. "Have you heard anything?"

Cassius came out a daze and shook his head, "Oh, no, I haven't heard anything about it… but then I haven't spoken to Brutus for several weeks now. He and Pulcher haven't spoken in an even longer time."

"You'd think Claudia would have told him," Casca stated.

"She probably doesn't know either" Cicero replied placing his hands together and motioning the backs of the two Pulcher cousin's heads. "Neither she or her brother were shiny pennies and inherited all of their father's stupidity."

"It'll come as a nasty shock then when it happens then" said Cassius

"_If_ it happens," argued Casca

"It'll happen," confirmed Cicero with a knowing smile. "The question is how long Brutus will take to pluck up the courage to ask Porcia to marry him. The divorce will be very swift I imagine—he'll just send Claudia packing."

"Like you did?" Cassius questioned, getting a glare from both Casca and Cicero. "Let's hope Brutus handles his divorce with a little less malice then you did yours."

Cicero defensively shifted, looking away, biting his bottom lip, and trying to push the image of Terentia out of his mind. "I have no idea what you mean."

Cassius and Casca looked at each other before deciding to go and join the hand shaking, old women gossiping crowds before Caesar turned up, leaving Cicero feeling quite left out. Neither man chose to take the matter further although everyone thought Cicero was an idiot in divorcing Terentia who had been his pillar of strength and the only person who could argue with him. His arguments in politics had certainly gone down since he parted with his wife of thirty years. She was so good at countering his arguments and then helping him figure out a good answer. Cicero would never admit it but he was really starting to miss her—he knew that Tullia, his dead but still dearly beloved daughter, would hate him for his treatment of her. She always loved her mother and would have taken her mother's side. To Tullia, Terentia had been a friend as well as a mother and a symbol of all that was strong in a woman. She was proof that being plain and virtuous gave you more strength and character and popularity than being beautiful and a whore.

It seemed everyone in the senate had troubles, every single one of them was involved in some sort of scandal. Although greatly desired, the possible marriage between Brutus and Porcia was equally scandalous.

As if on cue, Brutus appeared through the senate door, received a couple of handshakes and the questions about Claudia's health. He never knew what state Claudia was in as he barely made contact with her. He had a more intimate relationship with the Lady Porcia there was no doubt about that. People imagined even Pulcher knew that Brutus and Porcia were close but assumed that they were just friends.

Once he made it through the crowds, he said hello to his brother-in-law before meeting with Cicero.

"Good day, Brutus" Cicero said politely.

"Good day, old man" replied the young man as he settled down in his place and sighed. He watched as several senators glanced up at him before speaking up, not turning his eyes on Cicero. "They're talking about me, aren't they?"

"Yes" the older man replied simply. "They're all talking about you, just like they did last time we were all here."

"Are all of them talking about it now?"

"Indeed; the Catonians and the Outsiders like me are still waiting for the magic words whereas the Caesarians both fear it and are trying to put a malicious spin on it."

That caught Brutus' attention, "What are they saying exactly?"

Cicero looked at Brutus before looking over to the Caesarians who were looking and laughing—Caesar and Antony would no doubt be turning up shortly. He sighed, "Well, some of them are starting to talk about your relationship with Porcia. With all of the rumours in the senate they're starting to believe that you are lovers, and the fact you live in the same house, they are also starting to assert that she is your kept mistress."

"Well it's a lie!" Brutus snapped defensively, catching the attention of his brother-in-law and brother-in-law's cousin. He gave them a nod before lowering his voice. "Why won't people stop talking about us? Porcia and I, well, we haven't… we've never…"

"Everyone assumes the worst" Cicero replied calmly and artistically, "and everyone wants to believe that the virtuous can be corrupt. But I highly suggest you amend it soon, before Caesar starts asking about it or any of this reaches your brother-in-law, or your mother."

Brutus wasn't insulted that people assumed that he was carrying out an affair with Porcia, although he didn't like that she was forced at the centre of all people's hopes and fears. The idea that she would carry out a pre-martial relationship with anyone was ridiculous especially since she was a young woman of the highest morals. He thought it ridiculous that people thought it was even possible to carry about sexual relations in his home without his mother catching wind of it.

He knew there were only a few ways to settle the rumours but there was no way to make everyone happy. One of the things he could do was to get rid of Porcia. That would please Caesar and his faction as well as stop them talking. He could get rid of her by marrying her to someone else in his faction or better yet to one of Caesar's friends to marry her. He had the power as her _pater familias_. That would be what a cold man who always thought with his head rather than his heart something that Brutus had never been able to do. He couldn't bare it if he was obliged to marry Porcia off to someone else and could bare the thought of someone else touching her and deflowering her.

The other option was to get rid of Claudia and marry Porcia—pleasing his friends and himself but displeasing everyone else. That wasn't the smartest thing he could do but all knew that it was the choice he was going to choose. He led from heart rather than the head, always had and always would as far as everyone was concerned. It would be a scandal but once everyone was used to the idea he was sure that all would be well with both allies and enemies of Caesar. The trouble was dealing with his brother-in-law.

The large crowd gathered at the door as Caesar entered with Mark Antony following on behind him. As soon as they stepped into the room they were separated; allies and enemies desperate for his attention surrounded Caesar. Antony stepped to one side with his vulgar friends to catch-up with what everyone was talking about. He didn't do it often as he felt it was indeed the job of a woman to gossip but it was always good to laugh at other people's misfortunes.

He was enjoying the rumours about Brutus—it was nice to find that the man could be the centre of gossip that wasn't about his paternity. When he heard that the woman he was allegedly engaging with was Cato's daughter Porcia he couldn't help laugh. He didn't know what Porcia looked like; the last time he had seen her was before he left Gaul and it was from a distance—she was ten years old at the time. His mother had pointed her out to him and his brothers one day when they were out on a walk with her brother Lucius Caesar and Cato was walking with his children.

Although a very attractive little girl, thirteen years had past and therefore she must look different. Despite being a pretty child his image of her now was to the contrary. She was Cato's daughter after all and Cato wasn't the prettiest of sights. He was supposed to have been very handsome in his youth but stress together with wine and a clawing incident where Servilia allegedly tried to claw his eyes out when he was seventeen ruined his face and gave Antony the idea that Porcia must be plain. He imagined her very skinny, maybe tanned and not beautiful—not at all accurate to the real thing, but he didn't know any better.

He would finally get a look at her later, however, as he was going to Caesar's house for a couple of hours where Caesar warned him that the Lady Porcia would be visiting his wife Calpurnia. She was there as they spoke, in fact, and Caesar didn't seem too troubled by it. He wanted at least one member of his family to be on friendly terms with Porcia and it seemed only natural that the wife of Caesar should be the friend of the 'lover' and potential future wife of his dear friend Brutus. Also, to be seen together was a sign of their virtue as both of them had good reputations. That was why the rumours were tainted a little—Porcia had to be one of the only women in Rome who didn't spread her legs for every man who came along.

"Of course I haven't seen her yet," Antony said to his friends, none of whom where in a circle where they would have met or even seen Porcia either. "But from what we saw of Cato, and what Caesar told me about her behaviour I have an idea of what she'll be like. Caesar said she's the most outspoken little bitch ever to walk on two legs. You know, come to think of it, I've only met her once or twice and both times she was about nine or ten."

"Have you heard the rumour going around?" one friend said glancing up at Brutus.

Antony turned and looked up too. Brutus caught sight of both of them and scowled. The two men smiled and waved at him. When all he did was ignore it, Antony laughed and turned back, "Yes I've heard the rumours. Good on him, I say. She's the only woman in the world who could put up with him and probably the only woman in the world who could love him."

"Think she's a shrew?" one asked.

"I don't know I haven't met her yet" Antony replied with his trademark smile that was infuriating to his enemies and infatuating to most women. "With some women you can enjoy the night even if you can't enjoy the day… but I can't see how any daughter of Cato could bring pleasure to any day or night."

-

Calpurnia was Caesar's third wife who he had married the year after his divorce from the second. His first wife had been a woman called Cornelia, daughter of a powerful member of the Populares—the Caesarians as they are known today. She had been the mother of Caesar's only legal child, Julia, and had died giving birth to another child. Caesar had been fond of her as she was a virtuous and good-natured woman: the model Roman wife. His second wife came a few years later. Her name was Pompeia Sulla, an outstanding beauty but not as well read as Cornelia had been or Calpurnia was now. She was very gullible and fell for many of the drunken tales people told her at parties. She had been involved in a scandal and had been greatly disliked by Julilla, Atia's mother. Although proved innocent of all charges Caesar still divorced her because "the wife of Caesar must be trusted and completely blameless."

A year later he married Calpurnia and had been with her ever since. Although Caesar would never admit it he was oddly fond of Calpurnia. He respected her and wouldn't divorce her. He seemed to just make his peace with the fact that he'd never have a legal son. After all, Calpurnia never fell pregnant, and never would. Like Brutus' Claudia she wasn't fruitful. They had tried, gods knew they tried, but it just wasn't meant to be. Despite everything, Caesar chose to live with it. Calpurnia was barren and her father was very powerful. He had to live with that.

Besides, her refined, height and statue like qualities looked good when the pair of them appeared in public.

Porcia liked Calpurnia—she was a good woman of good morals and nature. Very few women in Rome were like that and Porcia wanted to be closer to her for that reason. Porcia like to think she was a virtuous young woman herself and felt that women like her should stay together and be friends. She knew that neither of them would ever fit in with people like Atia. Neither of them really wanted to socialise with Atia; they would have nothing in common even if they tried.

So the pair of them next opposite each other, talking about what they had been up to and what was going on with others in the family. The common ground they shared was that of Porcia's stepson Lucius who was in the provinces studying, thanks to Calpurnia, and Claudia admittedly. They would talk about the letters he had sent them and various other things. They tried their best to stay away from political matters knowing well that if Caesar came up in the conversation there would be no stopping Porcia.

"I worry about Lucius, I really do. I have written to him once or twice but he never replies" Porcia said, clutching a cup of honey water.

"He has sent me couple of letters" Calpurnia admitted, keeping her head down. "But most are very short."

Porcia smiled faintly and sighed sorrowfully but acceptingly, "Well, he's grown-up now. He has assumed the manly toga and is travelling to far off places to study like all boys do when they become men. It is only natural that he is slipping away from me. I'm just his stepmother, after all."

"He does ask after you in the letters, of course" Calpurnia quickly added. "He always says he's having a good time and begs you not to worry about him."

She sighed again as she had a thousand times and nodded, "Then I shall not worry and you don't need to fib or honey-coat it all. I understand that he has grown up and I have moved on from that life. A lot of time has passed since I sent him back to Rome—many years. I am no longer the girl I was then and he is no longer the child he was then."

"It's good that you see it that way" the older woman replied, looking to one side. Her husband had gave his blessing to the friendship despite the fact that she was Cato's daughter but in return asked her to find out about Porcia and her private life. See if there were any hints of a divorce and remarriage. Calpurnia was never a good actress so she rarely found anything out about Porcia's life.

Before Calpurnia could say another word to Porcia, the clopping of feet came towards them and turned to look in the direction of the footsteps, behind Porcia. The latter just sat and ignored it, guessing that it was Caesar. That was how he liked to make his presence known—by stamping his huge feet, the king's feet.

Surely enough it was Caesar in all his majestic glory, striding into the room, reading a scroll and accompanied by Posca and someone who Porcia had not yet come to face with. That was Mark Antony. Only ever met him once or twice and even then they had not spoken to each other. Porcia just rolled her eyes and Caesar's voice rang into the room, presenting his hand towards his wife, "Antony, you know my wife Calpurnia, don't you?"

"Of course" the younger man said, walking down the stairs towards the living room and giving her a smile. "I fear madam that we rarely see each other these days."

"That quite alright" Calpurnia replied, glancing at Porcia who sat listening to the two gentlemen talk.

Caesar then nodded at the back of the young woman's head, pointing her out to Antony, "And this is my wife's new friend who the gentlemen of the senate speak of with such excitement." Calpurnia smiled while Porcia rolled her eyes.

"Nice to meet you, young lady," he said with his cheerful voice. When Porcia didn't turn to return the greeting, he titled his head to admire her back, and smirked cheekily. "Why do you keep your back to us?" he asked this with an infuriating smile, folding his arms, leaning to one side, wondering if he had been right about her. Was she really the mouse he had thought she was? "Turn and say hello so I can see it… or do you hide it for good reason? I wouldn't be surprised if you did…"

Porcia turned instantly to show him her scowl and looked at the man who was insulting her before he'd even seen her. She offered him a sly smile and titled her head also, "My sir, you look as vulgar as you sound. Sorry to disappoint you if you were expecting to see one of Medusa's ugly sisters; although I have never boasted about my looks, I never disbelieved I was attractive. It would be two-faced of me not to know."

She then stood and walked close to him. Then, as if to mock him, she copied Antony position smiled, "You're Mark Antony, aren't you?"

While Porcia was obviously feeling a little smug, Antony just looked at her in surprise, his mouth open slightly and his eyes blinking as if he were imagining things and he half expected to suddenly see her transform into the face he had pictured in his mind. When she didn't all he did was close his mouth, smile and point, "You're Porcia?"

"I am" Porcia replied with the same smile.

"The daughter of Cato" he said in a confused voice, as if trying to get his facts right, waiting to be proved fault, "The daughter of that man who used to complain a lot in the senate? Yon demented little worm?"

She scowled at that remark. It did hurt as she did love her father despite all his faults and didn't like it when anyone insulted his memory. Behind her Calpurnia even bit her bottom lip, waiting for Porcia to begin her speech, "My father didn't complain in the senate; he reasoned better than any of the vile, corrupt and disgusting senators in the senator then or today. He believed in the republic, spoke for the republic and always believed in an honest and equal republic. He was the only honest politician in the government…"

"He's the only honest politician there ever will be in a government" Caesar stated.

Porcia turned her head to look at Caesar with a sarcastic look of disbelief, seeing right through him, before forcing her smile. "At least you see yourself for what you are—back in the day nearly every man in the senate said he'd rather be in prison with Cato than in the senate with you."

"Gods above us" Antony then exclaimed with a grin, "You really are Cato's daughter!"

Porcia, without losing her smile, turned to look at Antony, "Why do you find that so hard to believe, Antony?"

"Well," he said presenting his arm and looking her up and down, "you only have to look in the mirror to see why some people would find it hard to believe. I was expecting someone a bit…"

"Plainer?" Porcia finished. Antony stopped and looked at her for a moment, keeping his charming smile and making a sorry-but-can-you-blame-me-look. She answered him, "I suppose I can't blame you."

She returned to her seat opposite Calpurnia while Antony and Caesar made their way to their own chairs on the other side of the room. Still talking, Antony went on, "Well, exactly, I mean anyone who had known your father or just seen him wouldn't have believed that anyone who looked…" he stopped and motioned his hand at her getting another scowl from Porcia, and one from Caesar too. "Looked the way you do."

Porcia turned away from him and looked at Calpurnia, speaking quietly, "I don't know whether to be insulted or flattered."

Calpurnia smiled despite the fact that now Porcia clearly didn't feel comfortable with Caesar and Antony keeping their eyes on her. For some reason she felt at peace talking with Calpurnia who was a woman who, despite being Caesar's wife, she felt she could speak to in confidence. After a while of sitting in silence, Porcia finally stood.

"Well, I better be going" she said loud enough for all in the room to hear.

"Thank you for the grand announcement" Caesar replied sarcastically.

Porcia gave him her icy look before turning to her friend and nodding a friendly goodbye, "I'll see you soon I hope."

"You're welcome to come any time" Calpurnia stated quickly, standing from her chair. "It's good to have a friend who knows what she's talking about."

The younger woman smiled and turned to leave, finding that while Caesar was choosing to ignore her, Antony was staring and smiling at her again. She stood up straight and stoical, "Goodbye, General Antony." She then began walking to the stairs without waiting for the reply, Caesar glancing up to watch her go.

"Nice meeting you finally" he said keeping an eye on her back as she left, and titling his head ever so slightly as she walked up the stairs and disappeared of the Caesar stage. He smirked proudly before turning back to Caesar, wearing his amused smile. "She's a feisty one isn't she? Wouldn't mind giving her one, I've always found something undeniably attractive about women who you can argue with in the middle and have her sharp tongue wrapped around—"

"Thank you, Antony" Caesar said loudly, cutting his offensive friend off, knowing where he was going. He glanced at Calpurnia who had brought a hand to one of her ears as if to block out Antony's words. While the soldier smiled, Caesar sat and looked at pieces of paper of no importance, just wanting to push Antony off the subject. "I'm the first to admit she's a problem but she is the cousin of Brutus who is my good friend."

"Of course" Antony replied, not convinced. "You know when I heard that Brutus was shacking up with the likes of Cato's daughter I didn't imagine she'd look like _that_. Nonetheless, no doubt you want to put a barrier between the pair."

"Naturally"

"Who'd you want killed?"

Caesar glanced up at him, "Must you solve all your problems with a sword in hand? No, I can't advice him because he hasn't mentioned it yet. I suppose there is only one things I can do and that is to separate them."

Antony puffed out a surprised laughter, "And how are you going to do that?"

"I'll send him to Gaul" he stated as if he were sending someone down to the forum to meet a friend and that is how Antony took it, smirking again as Caesar went on, "with one or two of the minor trouble makers, Porcia's most loyal supporters."

"And you think he'll just" Antony replied with a disbelieving voice, "Up and go?"

"If I send him off straight away why wouldn't he? And if it is a quick matter I'll be able to get rid of him before Porcia cast her last spell and gets him to marry her."

Calpurnia listened to this and couldn't help putting in her word, "I'm sorry to say this but Porcia isn't stupid, in fact she can be a bit paranoid. She'll assume straight away that you're sending him away to keep her away from him. Besides, what will it achieve… you send him there for a couple or weeks, a couple of months at the most, when he comes back you'll still be in the same position. What are you hoping? That he'll 'go off her' in the time he's away?"

"Wouldn't be surprised…" Caesar asserted.

"I wouldn't go off her," Antony said honestly.

Caesar sighed and shook his head. "I'll advice against it if he still wants to marry her. I'll remind him that ten years ago he could have been taken to court for incest with a first cousin."

"They are only half first cousins," Calpurnia pointed out.

"Fifteen years ago you could have got done for doing your second cousin" Antony pointed out, getting a look from all of them including Posca, who was strangely silent. "That's right, I do know the law. Anyway, there is no way you'll get him with the cousin law. Twenty years ago everyone was fucking their cousins anyway." He paused, sat back in his chair making a neutral face, "I was. I was one of the first ones to do it legally too."

Posca couldn't help commenting, "Need he say anymore?"

"Meaning what exactly?"

"Nothing" Posca said looking away, waiting for his master to speak up. When Caesar seemed determined to stay silent, he spoke to Antony, "What would you do?"

"I don't have a problem with the situation to begin with! So those two get married, who cares? Brutus is too much of a lapdog to do us any harm not matter how much Porcia whispers in his ears," Antony said, looking at one of the slaves that caught his eye. "And double your guard, in case the bitch does stir up some sort of heat."

"You fools" Caesar exclaimed with his loud commanding voice but at the same time it sounded as if was mocking all of them. He put down his papers and looked at them all, "I intend to tell him that I wish to send him as several others to Gaul, and then state that he needs to go straight away. Then I intend to mention the rumours about Porcia and advice him to marry her off as quickly as possible; we'll see just how true those rumours are. If they are true I'll put forward my opinion."

"Ah!" Posca said, looking up as if seeing into his brain. "Clever, but what is that doesn't work and he marries her anyway?"

Caesar looked up at him with a look that both of them knew well, the look of 'we'll-cross-that-bridge-when-we-come-to-it' but he still spoke. "I have conquered Gaul, I have defeated Pompey, Cato and all their allies, and I held Egypt with just half a legion… so I think I can handle a young woman."

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As I said above this is a story in several parts and I intend to post the next part next Saturday, providing something doesn't come up as I have a busy life. Next part (so far) Porcia is furious when she hears about Caesar's plans of sending Brutus to Gaul, and when Brutus decides to not oppose Caesar, she makes the choice of leaving the Junii household for their Aunt Porcia's. Meanwhile Caesar tries to convince Brutus that it would be wrong to divorce Claudia and marry Porcia. Both consider their opinions and look into the past, and have to decide what path they intend to take. Finally, Caesar comes into possession of something very, very interesting...

Hopefully, see you next week. Please review and tell me if there is anything you'd like to see in the story because the big two (or three) parter is the time to speak up.

**UPDATE: **I have three essays to do for this week so this chapter will be up within this week. I can't promise anything now but I will get it up soon.


	16. 2: Novus fabrica: II

If you are a "fly-by" or reviewer without an account and you want information about updates then leave your email in a review and I will happily send notifications to you. And now, the show must go on…

This chapter focuses almost entirely on the patrician side of things. The whole storyline does, basically. Now I have made allowances with time in these chapters because the episodes "Utica" and "Triumph" are supposed to just be taking two months—yeah, right! Utica really covers a good part of 46 BC, and Triumph 45 BC. So, there, I am stretching time. I see why I cannot because HBO stretched and compressed it in the second season.

In short I'm always here and always have been. I have issues with my family at the moment. Sorry for the LONG wait again. I didn't mean to make you all wait so long but when you see the size of this chapter you'll see why, as well as my issues I had to organise all of this.

The next chapter will probably be a bit shorter. This is 25 pages.

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Returning home after being in Caesar's house so long was like returning to heaven. She had not only seen Caesar, who made her blood boil so much but had met the famous Mark Antony who _was_, (not allegedly), _was_ a mass adulterer. Rather like Caesar but with a bit more energy and a little less style. Very attractive, Porcia admitted, but he had vulgar and impolite written all over his face. She just couldn't be bothered to deal with him, or Caesar or anyone any more. Part of her hoped for some sort of natural disaster to get rid of them all—flood, earthquake, fire, she didn't mind as long as there was only she and Brutus left.

She spent the rest of her day sleeping, trying to get rid of that day and bring in the next one. She didn't even feel like going into the garden; her head couldn't take the heat of the sun. She even felt too weak to find her virtuous lover to lay a few kisses and spend a little time with him. She just wanted to close her eyes and get rid of the day. She liked night much better—people slept at night, and it was quite and mysterious.

Surely enough she awoke much later, early into the next day. Knowing the house would be asleep she got up and decided to sit in the main room. Just sit there and do nothing. She rather liked that too: closing her eyes and fantasising about things. It sent her off into the dreamland very quickly. She resumed that very exciting dream that she was having the other day when Brutus interrupted her. When she'd awake she'd remember nothing of it, but while she slept, she relished, lost and loved it. It was a perfect world she dreamt in. A place where everything was possible and dreams within dreams could come true. Porcia rarely had nightmares.

In the early hours of that very morning there were sharp but quiet knocks at the door. These were the knocks that brought Porcia out of her thought, like someone was knocking on the door to her head, her imagination, her dreams, without regards for her peace of mind. Half asleep she pulled herself up, noticing several male slaves and Sylvia creeping towards the door. Servilia's creature wouldn't be awake, not at this time. The only reason Sylvia was conscious was due to her mistress' strange slumber in the day room.

Around her the house was still dimly lit, the faces of the Junian ancestors hung in the atrium as Porcia pulled herself to her feet and walked towards them. They glowed and seemed alive. Every flicker was the bat of an eyelid to her. Every time the wind blew and the flame danced; that was the presence of their spirits, watching those inside the house, picking out the face that would join them next.

Porcia stopped to admire these faces for a moment. All the great ones were there—the face of Brutus' father, the elder Junius Brutus, who was killed by Pompey when Brutus was barely two or three. Brutus only had one memory of his father; sitting at a desk surrounded by papers, he said, and joking that some day that would be him having to deal with. Brutus said he hadn't fancied it then and didn't now. Done with politics, that was Brutus. It certainly didn't do Big Junius Brutus any favours. Even after Pompey and Senior called a truce, the butcher sent his men to kill him. He even wrote to the senate about Senior's death before the act was even carried out!

His was the last mask on a hook. Looking at it Porcia tried to find the features that _her_ Brutus had gained from _that_ Brutus. She couldn't see much likeness, admittedly. That Brutus seemed the face of a heavily built man, round features and a cruel glare. Her Brutus was not like that; he was thin, tall and dainty, he had sharp features and there was nothing cruel in his eyes. However, he didn't look like Caesar either.

That was a relief, and Porcia looked along the lines again; some of her relatives were up there also, the line that she shared with Brutus; the Livians. That was where Brutus' looks came from, though Servilia, through her mother Drusa.

There wasn't a death mask of Livia Drusa, after Great Uncle Marcus Livius Drusus died, Servilia ripped down the death mask of her mother and had it melted on a fire. However there was a bust of her somewhere. It had belonged to Cato. He kept in his study near his deck on a bookshelf. Whenever anyone went in there they looked up at the striking, sharp features of Drusa, unable to not look. She was a very beautiful, the most stunning face Porcia had ever seen.

Her father used to look up at it occasionally, drawing her attention to it. "You remind me of her, daughter," he'd say in his gruff voice. "Yet I still see too much of your mother in you, too."

Porcia bit her lip, pushing that thought out of her head before looking up at Great Uncle Marcus Livius Drusus' death mask. He was murdered in the atrium of his own house in front of his sister's children: Servilia, Aunt Servililla, Uncle Caepio, Aunt Porcia, and her father Cato. There is a bit of him in Brutus, she thought, they have the same eyes.

Then she looked at the face of one of the most evil men in Servilian history: Quintus Servilius Caepio the Younger, Servilia's father. The mask was passed on to Brutus when Uncle Caepio died (Yes, his face was just next to his evil father's face, still smiling even in death) and it scowled straight at her. Well, it would. He was the grandfather of Brutus, but not of Porcia. He'd have spun in his grave if he knew his grandson was socialising with a granddaughter from one of Livia Drusa's _other litters_.

If he had a grave to spin in, that was, which he didn't.

Porcia would glad to say he didn't have a grave to spin in or an urn to make topple over as a wicked omen. The sad old prat had been responsible for the murder of Great Uncle Livius. The gods were watching and made sure that he paid the price. He himself was murdered by the Italians; they threw him on a bonfire, they say, and gathered up his ashes just to toss them into the Tiber like rubbish. They made a mask of his frowning, crude, unforgettable face and sent it to his son with a note. It said: _"Now this face shall never curse Elysium." _

"Now the pair is closer in death than they were in life," Porcia joked, childishly to Servilius and smiling at the images of her Uncle Caepio and Great Uncle Livius. She could almost imagine old Servilius glaring at her and Livius taunting him again. Old Servilius thought he got one over his rival, and yet he was the one who would not be accepted in Elysium. He had no coin in his mouth or a grave in which his ashes could lie when the Italians burnt him. "And you didn't deserve it" she remarked to the face.

Just then, Sylvia slowly crept up towards her mistress, so dazzled with the glows that her vision doubled. "Octavia of the Julii is here."

That brought her back, "Here now? Bit late, isn't it?"

"She says it's urgent."

Porcia sighed annoyingly and went to the door, determined to look as tied and irritated as possible although looking at the masks had made her feel quite tired anyway. She was still angry with Octavia for the insults of her previous visit. However she was very curious to know what she would have to say that was so urgent, so much so that it wouldn't keep till the morning. Porcia wrapped her shawl around her and went to the door.

Octavia stood fully dressed, covered in a large cape, and face full of defeat and sorrow. Porcia kept her scowl and hard face despite the fact she felt sorry for her. "I'm sorry to call so late," she began in cracked voice, as if she'd been crying. "I need to ask you something."

"Something that can't wait till the morning," Porcia replied, imitating a yawn. "Why can't you wait until morning to tell me?"

"Because I'm leaving," Octavia replied, plainly.

Porcia's eyes widened; she wasn't expecting that. She folded her arms and looked at Octavia's face. It was pale, almost as pale as Porcia's skin was naturally, a deathly colour to others. Her cheeks were stained with tears and her breaths were distressed and fast. She looked behind her to see the slaves all watching. Bare foot, she stood outside the house and onto the cold cobbles.

"Leaving?" Porcia questioned, moving closer to her, "where are you going?"

"Just leaving, I'm not sure where yet, but I am leaving Rome," Octavia replied with the first sound of certainty she could muster. "I can't stay here, not after what I have done."

"Why, what have you done?"

"You know."

"I assure you I don't," Porcia replied, looking away briefly, truly clueless to what Octavia was talking about.

Her assumption pointed her towards 'the bitches from hell': Octavia's mother Atia and Porcia's aunt Servilia. What they could have done to make Octavia flee the city, she didn't know and didn't really want to guess. Those two would do anything to get their revenge. Although Porcia didn't like her aunt, she didn't like Atia either. It seemed to her that had Atia not come between Servilia and Caesar none of the upset would have started. Servilia thought herself too lady-like to start a fight. Atia was not much of a lady.

"It's so shameful I can't repeat it," the troubled woman began.

"Then I shall not ask," the level headed lady replied; Octavia's words reminded Porcia of that conversation she had with Claudia on that dusty road over four years ago. She pushed it to the back of her mind and went on, "If you cannot repeat it then it is best kept to yourself."

Octavia swallowed: "I came here to ask you something. I know that you will tell me the truth, something Servilia cannot do and my mother would swear on spirits and gods if she thought it would save her in this life. Porcia, I want you to tell me honestly without trying to cloak me from the truth—did my mother kill Glabius?"

Porcia did not lie, as the woman requested, and replied as plainly as Octavia desired: "Yes."

The answer made Octavia swoon. She was probably expecting a different answer. It was the shock, the shock of knowing that her mother was mocking Jupiter and her ancestors, ordering Timon to go out and have Glabius killed. She knew that Porcia had no reason to lie—she disliked both parties, and had more reason to dislike Servilia more than Atia. This was a word that Octavia knew was honest. To lie would be against Porcia's stoic principles.

"Thank you," she finally whispered, backing away from the door to disappear into the night. Yet, before doing so, she stopped and looked at Porcia, a woman who was so much stronger than her and yet could be kind at the same time. She lacked the cruelty of her mother and Servilia, but she could be harsh. Porcia was fair in judgements. Octavia wished she could be. "You know," she said before leaving, "sometimes I wish I was just like you."

"You can never be like me, Octavia," Porcia replied with the hint of a smile. "You cannot be like someone else, not really. All you can be is yourself. The trick is to discover what your capability is. Some people can be one thing and some another. If there in an ounce of me in you then it will be because of you being you; not wishing to be like me."

Octavia said nothing in reply to that. She just nodded, leaving Porcia standing on the cold cobbles. Unlike her usual standing in the cold in a daze, thinking about things, Porcia found she was too tired to care all of a sudden. She didn't even think to ask Octavia to write to her. Going back inside she went back to the day room and let out a great sighing-groan and closed her eyes in an attempt to return to her dreams. She was asleep before she hit the couch.

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Early that very morning, Brutus had received a message from Caesar calling him to his house, and he decided to hurry off to meet him a quickly as possible. Just as he moved out of his room and towards the door, he noticed Porcia on the couch, sleeping quietly and peacefully. It was very tempting to wake her up and ask why she was there but he couldn't; she seemed so at tranquil. Just looking at her made him feel warm inside. Instead of waking her, he walked over and gently scooped her up in his arms. Carefully, he carried her to her room, all the time worrying that he might wake her. He was never the agile type, even when he wasn't under the influence.

He wasn't sure whether she was a heavy or light sleeper. When she was younger she had been a very light sleeper. One thing he did know was that she was agile and light even as an adult; he had teased her about being too skinny. Yet, although she wasn't voluminous, she wasn't skin and bones.

He settled her down gently onto her bed and pulled the covers over, tucking her in as if she were a child. From fear of waking her up still, he left straight away, despite it being very appealing to stay and watch her. She seemed transparent when she slept, her skin was pale enough when she was awake, and the only sign that she was breathing came from her chest as it faintly rose up and down. Otherwise she was soundless.

Closing the door quietly, he went on his way, choosing to walk in the morning air. It was quite cool and peaceful, hardly any noise apart from cockerels far in the distance crowing in the dawn and a couple of the wealthier plebeians getting in a morning stroll. It was a short distance between his home and Caesar's home. Although the rest of Rome was just waking up, the outside of Caesar's house seemed very active. There were a couple sleepless magistrates outside, standing about doing nothing, slaves gossiping and several others who Brutus knew from the senate.

Oddly enough it didn't take long for someone to grab his arm and pull him inside. When he finally made it to Caesar he found his friend sitting behind a desk looking at several papers, noting things down, crossing them out, and reading them again. He looked up and smiled when he saw Brutus, clearly tired also.

"Brutus, very glad you came so quickly" Caesar said, standing to embrace the young man with the traditional Roman greeting. "I'm sorry to have called you here at the crack of dawn but I need to get through several people early today before we all meet at the senate this afternoon."

"Get through what exactly?" Brutus said as Caesar motioned him into a chair. "It seems an odd time of the day to be seeing people. With all the work you have I'd have thought you'd cherish the moments you can close your eyes and sleep."

"As my wife would say, this is not proper, but I have far too much to do today to sleep" Caesar explained, sitting and still smiling. He then lent forwards onto the desk, linking his fingers and regarding his visitor, "I won't lie to you—I am having a re-shuffle at the moment and trying to sort out who should be doing what. The men who were dealing with things in Gaul have done nothing but cause trouble. I received word last night that there are massive disagreements there. Well, they sent to me to come and deal with it but I can't just up and leave Rome, can I?"

"Certainly not" Brutus agreed, wondering where he was going with this. "So what are you planning to do?"

"Well, one thing I will be doing is replacing whose in charge out there" he replied. "That's why there is so much bustle around here. Trouble is you wouldn't believe how hard it is to find men willing to go out there are sort things out in Gaul…"

"It isn't the nicest place to travel to" he agreed, smiling as he remembered his travels through it. "So why am I here?"

"I am trying to find people who are good at peacekeeping to send out there, just for a couple of weeks, two months at the very most. They'd be back by April—as you know, I hold my triumph then and I'd rather things were at peace in Italian Gaul before it. You I have always admired for your… gentle nature and wiling to keep peace, and I have you in mind one of the six men I'm sending out there to sort out the trouble," Caesar said in one big gulp, and quickly as if to stop Brutus from refusing.

Brutus on the other hand just stayed silent, rather surprised that Caesar wanted to send him of all people and had a good idea that he was doing it to get rid of the republicans who he felt might opposite something he wished to propose to the senate while he and whoever else was gone. Still he wasn't going to argue, he had sworn never to deal with politics again so he didn't care what Caesar did with the senate.

"So" he began looking at Caesar, "whom are you thinking about sending to Gaul?"

"Some who are good at arguing, some who are good at negotiating and some who are good at being firm" Caesar replied.

"Ah, I see, so why do you want to send me?"

Caesar smiled at that and shook his head, "Once I said something about you that you don't know. Whe you first entered the senate you were under your uncle and father-in-law's influence. You stood in defence of your father-in-law when he was accused of bribery and helped convince the senate of his innocence. I suppose it's your honesty that did it. Afterward I turned to a friend and said 'I don't know what that young man wants but whatever it is, he wants it badly'."

"Well I don't want anything" Brutus replied, managing to smile. "Except to just live out my life without trouble."

"And after this I promise I will never bother you again" Caesar replied, hoping that his put-on honesty would be enough. The quote about the wanting was true but Caesar was lying when he said he'd never bother him again. "I need your help, I need the senate's help in order to make sure that this disgruntled fit doesn't turn into something more serious. Now, will you help me?"

The young man sighed and thought. The last thing he wanted to do was pack up and leave, he would be gone for ages; being away from her for too long made her into the vengeful monster that he did his best to avoid these days. He'd have to leave Servilia and Claudia alone in the same house with Porcia.

Then he thought of Porcia.

When she was away in Africa he had missed her so much and that was before they confessed how they felt for each other. Time away from each other in the middle of their new relationship, hardly a year old, would no doubt do damage to them. He was even more worried about the damage his mother would do to Porcia while he was away; she used to torture her as a child.

Yet, despite all of these demons he had no real reason to refuse. He nodded, "Well, I suppose I can't say no, can I?"

"Excellent" Caesar said with a pleased tone, picking up a piece of paper and handing it to him. "So far I have decided that you, Cassius and your cousin Decimus are to go. I'd like to have your opinion on the other three. There are a couple of names on there, I have marked the ones I think are suitable…" that confirmed Brutus' suspicions that politics was the reason for this choice to send him and he no doubt hoped that Brutus would choose those among his friends "…but if you disagree then mark the name you think better. If you agree, then you mark it as well."

Brutus nodded, "Certainly."

He stood to leave when Caesar raised his hand, "No, wait! I wish to speak with you about something else, please sit back down." Brutus obeyed, slipping back into his chair and awaiting what other requests 'King Caesar' had to ask of him. He noticed how Caesar seemed to make himself more relaxed and informal. He then smiled in that way Porcia hated. "I say this to you as a worried father unto his son, not as a senator to another senator."

Brutus' eyes circled to the side before he looked back as if he was a son or child being spoken to by a father.

"Okay…" he said slowly. "This isn't going to be like the time you told me where babies come from, is it?"

Caesar sniffed a laugh and shook his head, "No, my dear boy, nothing like that. It is a private matter, however, which is becoming too public for your own good."

The young man sighed and leant back in his chair, keeping his eye on Caesar, "This is about Porcia, isn't it?"

"I thought I should say something," Caesar said, coolly but defensively. "You are as a son to me and it is my obligation to look out for you when… scandal… is in the air for you."

"So _that_ is why you want to send me away?"

"No," the elder man said quickly, loudly but still coolly, lying through his teeth but convincingly. "Politics cannot interfere with personal matters. It has nothing to do with sending you away. If it was I wouldn't be sending five other men with you…" he then paused briefly to check Brutus' face: he seemed to fall for it. "What I would like to know, however, is how much of the rumours are true?"

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm worried about you," Caesar said, partly true but partly a fib; he was worried about his own standing too. It wouldn't be fitting for Caesar to voice worries over anyone, certainly not a woman barely out of girlhood. "I fear what people will say about you if the rumours are true."

"What does it matter?" Brutus asked reasonably, "They are already saying those things."

"They say them" Caesar agreed "but it doesn't make them true."

"Then why not leave them to it? As you say, words cannot hurt me."

"They can be very painful" Caesar said sagely, raising his eyebrows, hinting towards something although Brutus didn't have a clue what it was. "Especially if something happens to make them suspect that the rumours are true."

Brutus sighed, but managing to smile, he leant further back in his chair and gestured his hand towards Caesar, "You want to say it, so why not just say it?"

Caesar looked at the younger man, linking his hands and sitting up straight, pausing before he cut to the point: "Are you planning to divorce your wife, Claudia, and replace her with your lover, Porcia?"

"Firstly" said Brutus, jolting forward quickly in his chair, leaning on the table and counting his fingers, "don't use the word 'replace', you make it sound as if I were… changing cattle. It's unfair."

"To Claudia or Porcia?"

"To both!" Brutus said, snapping slightly but still trying to be respectful. "And secondly, Porcia is not my lover… well, not in the sense that you probably think…"

Caesar raised his hands defensively and smiled, "You wrong me Brutus. I am probably the only person in Rome who does know what sort of lover she is to you. I know very well that you do not sleep together. Nonetheless she is your lover in the respect that she is the woman that you share a mutual love and infatuation with, and that you are both aware of each other's feelings. I know you are too honest to make a mistress out of Porcia and she is too virtuous to agree to be a mistress. She would demand marriage, which is why I ask the point that you have avoided in your heated reaction… are you planning to divorce Claudia?"

Brutus didn't answer at first: he didn't know how to answer that question. He had often thought about, especially with all of the gossip going around. He had almost suggested it to her last week when they had been sorting out her books, but that man Pullo came to see her, distracted her, and she disappeared until later that evening by which time she seemed dead on her feet. There never seemed to be a good time to suggest or just plain ask her. It wasn't fear of refusal—he knew she'd say yes. Every time they embraced, touched or kissed, her soul was crying out for the question. It was the fear of what people like Caesar would say about it.

He leant back in his chair again, silently, looked down, away from Caesar's face, "What if I am?"

Caesar took a deep breath, his eyes rolling upward as if he were begging the gods it wasn't true. At least there was some root to the gossip but he almost wished there wasn't. Personally, he'd have preferred it if they were just sleeping together. But no, it had to be more than that. It had to be with Brutus. He was normally passionless and loveless, despite being a cheerful man.

Caesar leant forward, as if reckoning with Brutus' common sense, "I would ask you reconsider."

Brutus looked up, "Why should it bother you?"

"She is Cato's daughter" Caesar reasoned, not wanting to provoke Brutus but not wanting to lie about his discomfort at the man he'd loved as a son under the thumb of Cato's daughter. "She is a stoic and a Catonian."

"So? I'm his nephew," Brutus stated conclusively, "wouldn't call me a Catonian would you? And so what is Porcia is a stoic? Yes, she is a stoic but the similarities end at that. She is nothing like Cato as a person. Just as I am nothing like him, other than the fact I share his blood."

"Indeed" Caesar said quietly but loud enough for Brutus to hear, "his blood and Porcia's. Besides, there is a big difference between Porcia and yourself. You are my friend."

"She is your wife's friend," Brutus pointed out. He then scowled, "And what do you mean 'his blood and Porcia's', I hope you don't mean what I think you do."

Caesar looked at the angered man, "You are telling me that the fact you are first cousins doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

"No" Brutus said shortly and finally. "And begging your pardon but why should it bother me? Everyone was marrying his or her cousins long before the law enabled it."

Caesar shook his head before leaning back in his chair again and linking his fingers, "And there is nothing I can say or do to convince you otherwise?"

Brutus paused for a long moment before going on. Normally when talking to Caesar he chose his words very carefully but what he said came straight from his head, his honest feelings about the matter. They were something that could not be reached, not by Caesar, not even by the gods.

"I'm sure there are many things you could do to try and stop me marrying her," Brutus admitted. "But there is nothing you can say that will stop me loving her. Nothing."

Not sure how to deal with the situation, all Caesar did was nod, "You see—you want it badly and you're going to take it. Plus, you have just made a good argument. It is all the proof you and I need about your capability. I hope you won't refuse my choice of sending your to Italian Gaul, have you?"

Brutus stayed silent before shaking his head, "Like I said before, I don't have a choice in that respect."

"No" Caesar said shortly.

"But one thing is certain" Brutus said, getting to his feet. "It is my choice who I marry and mine alone. Not yours, not my family, not my allies, it is mine alone, and I hope within time you will learn to understand."

"No need," Caesar said to the leaving Brutus, disappearing out the door. Once he had gone, he paused and shook his head, "I understand completely."

-

Porcia drafted a letter to her stepson Lucius, whom all called 'Bibulus' now, after finally receiving a unique letter—addressed to her and her alone—telling her everything he was up to and, apparently sending her, something that belonged to her. This 'something' had not been returned to her. Only the letter had come. The letter had come via Calpurnia who said all she was give was the letter. Porcia wondered if this thing had been lost on the way or had never made it off Lucius' desk. That was like him, even as a child he left things behind. Once finished, she made a deep heaving sigh that bounced off the walls the same way sound would have had she spoken.

She threw herself back into a chair and, for no real reason at all, began to hum to herself a song she had picked up on her travels during the civil war in Africa. She didn't understand the words and only knew a handful of words from the area she was in. Otherwise she was clueless: Latin and Greek were her fortes. As if frustrated, she loosened the laces of her sandals and twisted the loops around her toes. Porcia had always been able with her toes as if they were a second pair of hands. Not that she could hang from them or anything. But they were strong. She could open gates, turn pages, grab hold of anything narrow, as well as various other things. Once upon a time she could stand up on the tips of her toes for a period of one point five seconds. It wasn't long but one point five seconds longer than most people. Most people wouldn't even try and Porcia would tell them not to. The action could crush the inside of the toe; she'd seen the results. That's why she didn't do it any more. She was scared she'd never be able to walk again, or at least not move as ably as she did now.

There were other things she imagined she could do with her toes and foot. She'd never tried them but she had a good idea of how it would work.

Keeping her eye on the sandal, doing her trick where she put the foot back into it using on her toes (purely for her own 'entertainment'), the door behind her opened and closed behind her. At first she thought nothing of it, thinking it only a slave, or Aunt Servilia or someone else who wouldn't waste their breath on her. Or at least waste bad breath, which tended to roll off Porcia's back these days, as she'd taken her fair share of bad breath. However, this was one bad breath she wasn't in the mood for.

"Porcia," stated a feminine voice.

The shock of the voice caused Porcia to break out of her concentration, her foot flinging the sandal up and over her head, across the room behind her and into the hands of Claudia. Swinging up and around, Porcia saw indeed it was Claudia. She began pulling herself to her feet but was stopped but her.

"Please, don't get up. I want to talk to you."

Porcia watched carefully as Claudia made her way towards her and sat opposite her. She wished there was something she could do on her toes that would get rid of this situation, like running away. It wouldn't make her look good though and a stoic should face problems with their head held high. Porcia looked at Claudia, almost waiting for her to confront of her about something or other. When she said nothing, it made it even worse, and all she could do was glance to the side. Sylvia and several other slaves were standing near by, still as anything, like bits of furniture that you had to feed.

"Tell me something," the older woman finally said.

She looked back to her dazed in her waiting for actions. In caught her so suddenly the words didn't reach her ears well, "Sorry?"

"Are you happy?"

She heard it but it made no sense, "Sorry?"

"Are you happy in yourself, content, generally pleased with life? Are you happy?"

Like a child, Porcia looked about, as if searching her brain, to find something that told her how she was feeling. She was awkward being asked these questions but she was normally a rather cheerful person and happier than most in her family. She had a feeling that Claudia was going to link this with Brutus and her, but she couldn't work out how.

"I like to think so," she finally replied.

"That's nice," Claudia said, looking at her quite honestly. "I'm glad you're happy, I really am. It's nice to be happy. Tell me, is it my husband who makes you happy."

Porcia didn't think about that answer: "Yes, I admit that, very happy."

Claudia nodded silently and said nothing for a while, pondering. Porcia wished she could read her mind and know what she was thinking. Instead she looked at the face: she'd always been quite pretty but not much of a prize. Her face was pleasant to behold at twenty-seven years of age, not as pearly white as Porcia but still pale, tired blue eyes and blonde hair that showed premature grey hairs. A model Roman matron, she was good at all the things Porcia was not. She could weave perfectly: every single tunic worn by a slave in the household was made from scratch by her. Her talents were so great that she obtained praise even from Servilia.

In being good at weaving, Claudia wasn't as well read as Porcia but that wasn't to say she was not wise. In terms of worldliness, she held more wisdom than Porcia. It wasn't because she was older but because she understood from a young age what it meant to be a woman. Porcia had tried to block out her childhood and lost the small details that helped a girl become a woman, the details that Claudia remembered.

She finally replied with a quiet and dignified voice: "I see. I just wanted to know. And I also want to tell you that I won't be humiliated at the end of all of this."

"If anything it will be I who is humiliated," Porcia replied, also quite but not as dignified, speaking as if it were to a strict teacher, "I would not do anything to purposely degrade myself, or you, or anyone for that matter. I wouldn't even do it by accident. I can't it's just, it's just…"

"Not in you?" Claudia asked, managing to smile.

"Yes."

"I know, and I shall never hold it against you, I promise. I cannot promise the same for my brother or cousin, Appius."

Porcia had forgotten about them: "I agree they will not be best pleased with the news."

"They will do everything in their power to humiliate both of you."

"I am strong enough to endure it," she replied strongly, "and if Brutus is not then I shall help stand up for him."

Claudia sighed, "And what shall I do with no husband, no child and no chance of getting either in the future nearing thirty."

Porcia stayed quiet for a while. She had almost forgotten that Claudia was Brutus' wife. She was becoming as bad as Brutus as even he forgot he was married from time to time, though not to the extent where he forgot he had to obtain a divorce.

"I had wondered, for a long time, why you never did have children," she finally asked, quietly, not looking at Claudia.

Instead of shrinking away or getting angry, the older woman laughed: "Isn't it obvious? I can't have them."

"You don't know that…"

"I do."

"How?"

"Well," Claudia said, presenting her hands sarcastically, "as you have pointed out, there are no children, are there?"

Porcia just sighed; sighing was the only way she could cloak her discomfort of talking to the woman she was due to replace. "Excuse me."

"It's alright," Claudia replied neutrally. "You can leave, if you want, I am obviously making you feel uncomfortable."

Porcia didn't even spare a moment to say goodbye or thank you or anything else she could have said to Claudia to end the conversation more formally. She walked out with her head held high but could say nothing from the shame of wronging poor Claudia. Yet, she could not pity poor Claudia for too long. Once the divorce went through and Appius Claudius had heard the news, he'd spread it throughout the city and add his own sordid interpretation of the 'facts'. People were already getting the wrong end of the stick about her relationship with Brutus, but once the divorce came along, it would make their heads explode. Poor Porcia is what she should be thinking. Poor Porcia.

-

Pacing up and down the path at the front of the garden, at the back of the house, surrounded by chirping birds and waving trees, Brutus wondered how he was going to tell Porcia about what Caesar wanted him to do. She'd hate it. There was no question of that. But there had to be a right way of telling her, one that would excel understanding rather than bring out the great anger he knew she'd feel even if she didn't speak it. And it was only a matter of time before she came skipping out into the garden and happened upon him. It was choice between a build up to the truth or a sharp announcement. The sharp announcement seemed to make more sense but he knew he'd go to pieces the moment he saw her.

He knew it.

He fell into a chair and buried his face in his hands, murmuring to himself, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing her and having to tell her. It was almost tempting to not say anything at all. But then she'd kill him when she found out he'd hidden it from her. Oh, damn Caesar and damn Cato for their hatred of one another, a hatred that has now rubbed off on Porcia. Damn them both for what they did to their minds.

As he went on murmuring these curses to himself, his time for thinking was up, as Porcia, walking not skipping, happened upon him. She had already been in the garden, seeing if she could still climb her tree. She found out she could and had been there looking over the forum. She used to always do it when she was a child, climb trees and watch the people for miles. She'd see the same faces now and then, gave them names, imagined their lives. As she child she had a rather romantic image of the plebeian's life. She imagined that it wouldn't be much different from her own life, as her father had taught her to be extremely modest. Yet, despite being beaten black and blue by Aunt Servilia, she had an easy life compared to some of those plebeians. They were tough as army sandals.

She was making her way back to the house with a leaf in her hand, as if she'd walked out of a wall painting. It was then she noticed Brutus, talking to himself. Sneaking up to him, she kept herself unknown right up until the moment she brushed the leaf against one of is ears. He leapt out of his state, shocked at the light brushing of the leaf, and just as surprised to see Porcia there.

"Oh," he said quietly.

"Nice to see you too," she said sarcastically, sitting next to him on the stone bench. She noticed the nervousness of his face and reached out to cup a cheek in her hand, "Are you alright? You look worried about something."

"Yes…" he began, "Well, actually, no. I'm not worried exactly, more… well… not worried."

"Troubled?"

"Yes, that word is good enough" he said, shaking his head, shifting in his chair.

"Can you tell me?"

"That's what I'm worried about…" he confessed.

Porcia raised her eyebrows. What was he worried about telling her? It had to be something bad, and that made her worry. "Brutus, tell me. You're starting to scare me."

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He wished he had just blurted it out now as soon as he saw her. It would have been difficult, though. She caught him off guard by coming up from behind and teasing him with a leaf! How could he just say it like that? She was being too flirty for that! And now he was scaring her. She'd be fuming in a few seconds:

"This morning, Caesar asked to see me and he wants me and others to go to Gaul to negotiate something or other before a riot breaks up. Something to do with corn or something like that."

Porcia sat silent for a moment, saying nothing. Brutus braced himself for a fuss. He thought back to her childhood: how she would start a tiff easily with one of the other children, make a fuss—the danger and hopelessness of it all. It was when she narrowed her eyes on him he knew the snap was imminent:

"_What?_" said she, finally, "And you intend to _help_ him?"

"I see no reason why not," Brutus said defensively. "If I say no he might do something to damage the family, or you, as he might think it is you telling me not to go."

"It is," she snapped.

"Better to leave and use the time for the rumours about us to die down," he reasoned. "By the time I come back, the rumours will have died down and no one will be watching us any more…"

"You are helping Caesar!" Porcia said, as if she hadn't heard his reasoning, "The man who _murdered_ my father!"

Brutus had had enough of this. He leant forward, jumping into the debate: "Caesar didn't murder your father. He killed himself."

"Because of Caesar"

"That's very short-sighted!" he hissed, "You wouldn't have considered it murder had Caesar been the one to fall on his sword!"

"No I wouldn't," she came back with, "because Caesar was breaking the law."

"Is murder part of law?" he retorted. "I have never read such a law. Is it not better to think your father died nobly rather than speak of his death as if he had been murdered like a coward?"

"My father and your Uncle!" she said with an angry hiss of her own. "How dare you use such reasoning to defend what Caesar did? Father has nothing to do with this! This is about you."

"You're the one who mentioned Cato," Brutus reminded her with a hint of sarcasm. "I do what I do to protect our family. That's more than Cato did. All he cared about was the republic. He couldn't give a damn about us…after all, who was it who saved you?"

Porcia lowered her eyes angrily. How dare he talk like that? And how dare he imply that her father care no more for the family than Caesar did. How dare he? In that moment, she might have hated him for saying that. Hate him and let him know: "Don't you dare speak of my rescue as if Caesar did it from the goodness of his heart!"

"Fine, and what did he gain from doing it for any other reason?"

Unable to stop herself, she made the impression of a dog, reverting them back to the conversation they had before about being a dog. She barked twice before holding her hand above his head and clicking her fingers.

"Jump, Brutus!" she said, looking at his face, now furious that she was mocking him. She raised her eyebrows, "No? Pity, looks like you really do only jump for Caesar."

Angered, she leapt off the bench and stalked off into the house. Behind her, Brutus slowly tried to cool himself down, and called after her: "Porcia, come back!"

"No, I'm not a dog," she said turning briefly. "I'm a cat, remember? Cats don't take orders; you want the bloody stick, get it yourself!"

"Where are you going?"

"To Aunt Porcia's house"

Hearing the startled Sylvia follow after her and the front door slam from all the way in the garden, he took a moment to think. He then cursed. He could have done that a lot better, a lot better. But it was not all his fault; she had conducted herself like a sulking child. He knew she hated Caesar but didn't realise it was beyond all reason. He hate for Caesar almost didn't make sense. For a moment he felt as trapped as he did when his mother ranted at him about his support towards Caesar.

For some reason it hurt even more coming from Porcia. He hated arguing with her. He regretted it all the more afterwards—she had not only hurt his feelings, but he had hurt hers. Yet, he had still hurt her despite the fact he loved her so completely. He didn't know how much she loved him but believed that she must at least love him a great deal. Why did they argue? If anything they shouldn't argue. It ruined a blissful romance, a romance that had been lacking in their lives up until then.

-

Marcus Porcius Cato was starting to get obsessed with what Posca got up to down in the Aventine. He got home as quickly as possible after telling his Aunt Porcia about his findings. He had excitedly rushed over there to tell all. Since his sister was too wrapped up in her own drama romance with cousin Brutus, everyone's favourite aunt was the only one he could tell this too. He would drop in unexpectedly but it brought the woman great joy to see the young man happy and sober. She had been delighted to hear he had joined the army, like Cato the Censor, and was glad to see him enjoying himself.

Just like Little Porcia, Aunt Porcia had thought Marcus was getting too overexcited about Caesar's possible involvement with the Aventine gangs, but when Marcus starting coming in every so many days with news of their movements and activities, that was when the aunt not only decided to believe him but take the charges very seriously. It what Marcus was saying was right, people were being murdered, people who might oppose Caesar.

Once he had finished with that visit, he rushed home to his house to draft a letter to his sister, hoping that she might trip over it and read it from her boredom. Marcus lived in a lodging, or rather, was a lodger in someone else's home. After Cato took his life Marcus lost out on his inheritance. Unlike Porcia who legally, as a widow, was passed on to the family's new paterfamilias, Brutus, as semi-property—as Caesar could not confiscate and auction Porcia off—Marcus was expected to support himself.

On his wage and a small amount placed into his account by Caesar (as a pay off or way to stop him from getting sympathy from Catonians) he moved in with Cicero's son, known better as Young Cicero and his mother Terentia. Tullia had also lived with them briefly before she died. He paid them a small rent and acted as a go between for Terentia and Cicero, since Young Cicero didn't want anything to do with his father.

As soon as the letter was finished, he delivered it himself rather than sending a slave, handing it to one of the slaves at the door and telling him to give it to his sister when he saw her. Following this he went home again, collapsing into a chair in front of Terentia who couldn't help chuckling.

"You look run off your feet, Cato."

"I am," he said, catching his breath. "I've barely had a moment to stop working."

"My Marcus," (as she called her son Young Cicero), "says that you've been stalking one of Caesar's slaves."

"He wasn't meant to tell you that."

"I won't tell anyone," she told him. "I have no one to tell and besides, your rent is part of my livelihood. I'm never going to get my dowry back from the looks of things."

Marcus sighed, "It was foolish of Cicero to have divorced you."

Terentia huffed, "Don't get me started on that."

"Well, no offence, but what you say about him can't be true…"

"It's not," she admitted. He was referring to the reasons, according to her, of why he divorced her. The reasons didn't matter it certainly put a smile of Antony's face when he heard about it. "But I want to hurt him, badly."

"I can understand that," Marcus said with a sigh, "I imagine my mother wanted to strangle my father when he packed her in."

"That was different!" Terentia snapped angrily, "I did nothing to deserve that divorce. No, correction, I did do something. I ran out of money. He seemed to forget that he was exiled and when to fight in a civil war. People burnt down our home and took our money. I had to provide Tullia with a dowry…" she paused for a moment—Cicero was not the only one who loved their daughter. Terentia and Tullia had been best friends as well as mother and daughter. As well as that, they had been close, closer than Cicero ever managed to get with either of his children. "Marriage to Cicero ruined me. Most husbands have to deal with expensive wives—this wife had to support an expensive husband."

Then why did _you_ stay married him? Marcus almost asked but stopped himself. No, why did you marry him in the first place? That was what he wanted to know. Cicero was a lowborn lawyer and Terentia, originally, came from a very wealthy patrician family. She had married beneath herself. What made the story all the more comic was that Terentia actually _chose_ Cicero! He was not chosen for her—not self-respecting paterfamilias would have chosen Cicero, back in the day when he was worthless. It had been Terentia's choice to marry him and to move into that insula they had back then.

She nagged and nagged him and he took many years to get on his feet. They fought like no Greek legend and for many years it seemed that Terentia would not give Cicero a son. Yet, when in a crisis, Terentia never faulted and kept her head held high, guided the family through all the blows it struck. Any woman would have given up on Cicero and left him with all the fights he got himself into. Why did she stay with him? Jove knows! Perhaps…

"Bitterness, that's all," Young Cicero who had remained silent up until then, leant over to whisper in his good friend's ear: "I think she still loves him, really?"

"No?" replied young Cato with a smile, "You don't say?"

-

Aunt Porcia's house was alive with chatter; the sickly woman was enjoying the company of two of her nieces, little Porcia and dear Tertulla. They had both gone to the beloved aunt for advice and ended up talking about Tertia's drawing and poetry that she had written in great stacks. Porcia enjoyed reading what people write. Normally she would proof read the works of others for her own pleasure as well as theirs. She thought it a pity that Tertia was a woman—she was very good at the poetry—but no man would ever take her words seriously.

Tertia liked both her aunt and cousin to proof read and share their opinions—being secret writers themselves. She felt isolated in her pregnancy and enjoyed getting away for a few hours. She regarded Porcia for a moment as she made her way through the pieces of paper. She had heard many rumours about her cousin and brother, finding it hard to understand how two relatives could fall do madly for reach other. It was a good focus point for writing though.

Porcia placed them down and smiled, "It's very good…"

"It's only my first lot" Tertia said happily, "I'll be writing more soon."

"That's good…" Porcia said, her voice tailing off slightly as if distracted. "I have to say it's a shame you don't write more… non-fictional things."

"People don't read non-fiction" Tertia protested. "Not when it's written by a woman, anyway. You know better than I do men are the ones who write history. It's the reason why people only remember Lucretia for being raped."

"Regardless, it must be nice to finish something," Aunt Porcia said, handing her wad of papers back to its author. "I never managed to write anything. I never managed finish anything. Never had enough time. Now it maybe too late…"

"Don't say that!" Tertia said quickly, worriedly.

"Tertia's right, you'll die a lot faster if you think like that," Porcia said calmly, reaching over to take her aunt's hand. "So don't speak like that."

Aunt Porcia's reply was to cough as she felt the liquid in her throat and chest rise. At first Porcia thought the elder woman was putting it on as a joke, but then realised that she was serious. Tertia watched silently as Porcia handed their aunt a handkerchief and rubbed her back. Finally the coughing settled down and she took a deep breath, handing the cloth back to Porcia. She put it away quickly.

"You can't die of a cough, aunt" Porcia said firmly.

The aunt tried to change the subject.

"What did you do with the journal I have you?" she asked Porcia.

"What journal?" Tertia asked, smiling at Porcia. "I didn't know you kept one."

"I don't" Porcia replied. "Well, not any more anyway. I'm afraid I lost it is the chaos following Pompey's defeat in Greece."

"Oh that's such a pity!" Aunt Porcia said sadly. "Don't you think you should start a new one? I originally gave it to you to help you find peace of mind as well as to record history. It might help you one day, you and someone else."

Porcia shook her head and sighed, "I wish that were so, auntie. But Tertia is right; no one will ever take the thoughts of a woman at face value; maybe one day but not now, not in my life time and not in this society."

"She's right" Tertia said, almost sulking, "like they'll care what we have to say. They'd rather burn it. Just because we say the truth while they leave the women out and tell the world how wonderful the things they do are when really it doesn't amount to a hill of mud in the long run."

Aunt Porcia just forced a smile for her nieces and looked between them, "You are both right, of course. We shall not talk of it, my loves, and let it intrude upon our good pleasure. Now, my darlings let us speak of the joyful things instead of dwelling on the tragedies."

"Joy?" Tertia asked, looking melancholy again. "There is no joy for Roman women."

Both girls looked at each other and nodded, both smiling warmly and both willing to talk of the joy although there was little to enjoy in the lives at the moment. The truth was that their aunt hadn't helped the situation. With her feeling so ill they didn't know at which moment she would finally drop dead, and that scared them. It frightened Tertia, but it devastated Porcia.

Yet, she told herself she wouldn't cry if worst came to worst.

After a while Tertia had to leave but Porcia remained with her aunt throughout the day and into dinnertime. It was then that the aunt decided to tell Porcia of everything her nephew had disclosed to her merely a couple of days ago. She told her that he had been following Caesar's slave, Posca, deep into the lower Aventine, and had discovered him speaking to one of the lead gangs down there.

"The other day he came to me with news that Posca had gone to tell the gang leader off for something or other. 'Take up his money and time to settle personal disputes,' or something along those lines," Aunt Porcia related to her niece, noting how she was still eating like a bird but deciding to say nothing. "He said he told you about this a couple of weeks ago but you were off with the fauns—he said something about you and Brutus, and with all the rumours, can I assume something is 'on'."

Porcia fumed again at what Brutus had told her, helping Caesar with his legal affairs, it made her blood boil; so much so that she had to swallow before she spoke: "Nothing is 'on' at the moment, auntie. In fact there never was anything officially on. Once more I'm questioning whether or not there ever will be something on. Caesar seems to be trying his hardest to ruin any chances of me marrying again…"

"Especially any chances of a marriage to Brutus?"

"Indeed!" the younger woman said, voice of passionate anger. "To Hades with tyrant, I pray to the gods that some men might strike him down for all trouble he brings upon me. He drove my father to his death, took my home, I lost my dowry, and now he ruins any chance I might have of being an independent wife once again! He has no right at all, no right!"

Aunt Porcia laughed: "He is sending Brutus and a couple of others to Gaul, isn't he?"

The young niece looked her aunt, surprised she had already known: "Yes, he is. It seems everyone in the family knew about this expect me. Who told you?"

"My sister," Aunt Porcia replied. "Ranting and raving like nothing on Earth."

Porcia stopped dead and swallowed her anger; the last thing she wanted was to behave like Servilia appears to have been doing. Servilia would be furious that her son was helping Caesar, and no doubt wished to make his life and living hell between now and the moment he left. Porcia thought a horrible thought: Brutus might be relieved he was leaving because of his mother's ranting—and now her ranting was added to it.

"That is what Caesar wanted me to do…" Porcia said suddenly, quietly.

"Do what?"

"He knew I would be furious when Brutus told me he was going away for a month to help Caesar with something," the niece explained, not thinking again that she might be reading too much into everything. "He wanted me to get angry so that Brutus would want to leave to get away from me!"

"You're paranoid, Little Porcia!"

"Maybe, but I'm right!"

The aunt chuckled and took a cup of wine to soothe a sickly feeling in her chest, "You really think that Caesar plotted the whole thing to break the two of you up? You are a powerful and well beloved woman to those who followed Cato, but aren't you giving yourself too much thought? I don't see why Caesar would be scared of you; you're a woman."

"He never misses a chance to make me look a fool," Porcia said quietly. "He is scared that I will marry Brutus, and will have him restore the Boni, and maybe inspire him to do something worse."

Aunt Porcia scoffed, "Since when have you been a Boni? You are Cato's daughter but you never missed a moment to question his interpretation of philosophy, law, politics, even romance and love."

"It wasn't difficult," Porcia said with a small smile. "He spent most of his time drunk during my childhood, so drunk he didn't notice anything I did. It's no wonder dear brother Marcus turned to the wine flask also. At least he pulled himself out and is making something of himself."

"Still he heard you argue," said Aunt Porcia, "And he always said you'd make a fine orator: but not one that will support the Boni."

"It's true." Porcia admitted, "I'm not a real Optimate. Then again, neither was father, not really. He only supported the Optimates because they stood for the old republic. He spoke often of his disgust for them, ranting on and on about them taking bribes and buying the support of other 'reprobate fools' in the senate. I suppose he hated patricians at heart. He is a plebeian by blood, and Italian by blood. We are Romans but we still have that hate for the corruption that we know exists in Rome. I hate to say it but…my father was a bit of a far right-wing…"

Aunt Porcia chuckled, "And you are no far right-wing."

"I am not," Porcia replied with an honest voice. "But Caesar is right, I would try and build up the supporters of my father, the Optimates, against him. Yet there is a line between the Optimates and the Catonians. They wouldn't be under that name, though…"

"What name would it be?"

"I'm not sure," she replied with a smile. "Something punchy."

They both laughed, and Porcia found she was no longer angry with Brutus for aiding Caesar. In fact she was determined to make it up to him in some way before he left, let him know that she was willing to support him in whatever he did. She would not be like Servilia, ranting and raving at him, but she would not be like Claudia, just there. Despite her disapproval of him aiding Caesar in his plot to conquer Rome and the world, she wanted to marry Brutus more than she wanted to snap at him for what he was doing. The fact she wanted to marry him wasn't even linked to politics, as Caesar probably believed, in fact it was blamed to the odd thing she always argued with her father about—romance and love. Cato said it was weak. Porcia thought it was strong. And it was strong, very strong indeed.

-

A letter carrier from Greece brought Caesar and his wife letter from friends, one being from young Lucius Bibulus, addressed to Porcia. Calpurnia would normally take the letters and pass it on. However, today, she was visiting a friend and only Caesar and Antony were there to receive the letters. Normally, Caesar wouldn't dream of reading someone's letter, but it came with something very, very interesting. Along with the letter from young Lucius was a medium sized box. As Caesar looked at the box, inspecting what it might be, Antony watched curiously:

"Why don't you open it?" he asked.

Caesar glanced at him before looking at the box again, "It's addressed to Porcia. To open it would be an invasion of privacy."

He handed the box to Antony, who took it and shook it: "Is there anything inside? Sounds like it's full of something—paper or something…"

"Open it," ordered Caesar.

Antony smirked, "What happened to an invasion of privacy?"

"If I open it," the man replied placidly, "it is an invasion of privacy. If you open it, it's just Mark Antony being noisy. Open it."

Obeying the order, he pulled the clasp and opened the box. Inside, as he had suspected, it was filled with papers. It was strange. The paper seemed sewn together with coarse string through holes in the paper, it being like the sort of paper used for letters. On the front and most of the paper throughout the bound pieces was writing.

"Well?" queried Caesar.

"Looks like a book of some sort," Antony replied with raised eyebrows. "Joined up letters, or maybe some sort of log, written with a woman's hand."

"Porcia's hand?" Caesar asked, starting to gain more interest.

"Never seen her hand," the soldier replied with a chuckle, "and even if I imagined it, it wouldn't be writing a letter."

Caesar reached over, taking it from Antony's hands, "Thank you, Antony. Keep your thoughts to yourself and don't try teasing the woman with them."

"That woman needs a good tease if you ask me," the soldier replied, stretching his arms a little bit and grinning in spite of his place. "So, what do you think that is?"

By that point, Caesar had already begun to read the writing and he knew exactly what the writing was it. It was gold. It was remarkable. It was a window into another world, the world that Porcia existed in. It was a window into her thoughts, and valued treasure. Lucius must have found it and thought to return it all to its owner. It was unethical, but Caesar thought he'd read the whole things first and copy it before he passed it on. After all, who knew how much use it would be?

-

On a grey yet sunny day did Brutus and the others set off for their gofer job in Gaul. A few family members gathered outside the houses to say goodbye for a month. Servilia showed her face, as too did Marcus, Tertia, and Secunda, along with several others including Aunt Porcia, who managed to get outside her house to see the lot off. For appearance sake only did Claudia appear, and she said very little. When Brutus came to say goodbye to her, he didn't even find it in his heart to kiss her on the cheek. It could be hypocritical of him. They all knew that.

Finally, there was Porcia, who had decided to live with her Aunt Porcia at least until Brutus returned. People believed it was because someone had made her leave, due to the rumours, but she kept her head held high and ignored the slanders.

The moving had denied her a chance to say sorry to her lover for the cruel and childish things she had said to him the other day. There never seemed a right moment to say sorry then, and now was as better as any. Trouble was they were in public; even Caesar had turned had turned up to see Brutus and Cassius at kick-out time. After the pair had said goodbye to everyone else, they finally turned to Aunt Porcia and Porcia.

Brutus wanted to save Porcia till last, giving Aunt Porcia and warm embrace, while Cassius did the same for Porcia. After that, Cassius turned to his own wife to give her an acceptable kiss on the hand before turning to wait at the gate for Brutus. He seemed to linger with his aunt's embrace.

"Goodbye, nephew," she whispered in his ear. "Don't let the good things pass you by."

He didn't understand her at first but once she let him go and looked at Porcia, he understood. This was the time to say sorry. Walking slowly to face her, they kept a good two feet of space between them, behind which Caesar could be seen looking on keenly, waiting to see what they would do.

Porcia was the first to speak: "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I was just being silly. All I want now is for this time to pass so you can come home. That is honestly how I feel."

"Honestly?" he asked, as if his life depended on it being so.

"I swear on my father's soul," she replied, so he could not doubt it.

When she put it like that, he couldn't disbelieve her. It had been Cato that started the heated bitterness to begin with. He leant forward to embrace her in the proper fashion and spoke quietly, "I'm sorry too. It's been plaguing me since how I hurt your feelings."

"And I," she replied just as quietly.

Letting her go, he briefly rested a hand on her cheek, before awkwardly stopping himself; he had just been about to kiss her. Pulling the hand away, he nodded, and turned his back to join Cassius, leaving Porcia empty and unsatisfied. Just then, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Aunt Porcia. She patted the shoulder with support before removing it.

Receiving that pat on the shoulder from Aunt Porcia, she suddenly felt encouraged to walk forward. She had been behaving in a childish manner before. Her anger had been exactly what Caesar wanted. Her anger might be the thing to drive Brutus away from her. With a mother like Servilia he needed all the peace and quiet he could get, and she knew that now. She also knew that she had to show Brutus that she was not like his mother. That she could be a haven rather than another person to keep satisfied.

Tapping him on the shoulder, he turned swiftly. Under the eyes of Caesar, Secunda, Tertia, Cassius, Servilia and Aunt Porcia, and other servants, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. That did take him by surprise. He had wanted to do this just seconds ago but decorum had denied him the pleasure. Porcia seemed to throw good manners out the window, just for a brief second, as if her father's soul hadn't been enough to swear her love on.

And she worked hard on this kiss. She wanted everyone there to remember it, not just Brutus. It was important that he did, and she did it quite well. She filled it with every inch of her own soul, her own love, and her own passions. She used all of these to flare up his love and passions, and anything else he might be feeling. In a way, this heated goodbye was her only way of telling him that he ever wished to satisfy the feelings boiling up from this kiss, he had to return swiftly, he would have to divorce his wife, and he would have to marry her.

This kiss naturally stirred the reaction from all the on lookers too; all but Caesar and Aunt Porcia were surprised. Their reactions were just normal, half-expecting. Caesar's never changing face said more than it showed though, it showed that he would have to work harder to control the woman. Aunt Porcia had egged on the kiss and was pleased to see the show of emotion. She wanted to see Porcia safely married again before she died—she had to see it.

Servilia looked as if she wanted to gnash her teeth, handing out her best cold glare. Had Porcia not been 'busy' she might have turned to stone. Cassius couldn't help a smirk, while Marcus and Tertia's mouths were open like fish in water. Secunda wasn't much different: her eyes looked as if they might pop out from her skull.

When the kiss finally broke, nether could care about the onlookers feasting on the sight. All they could see for a brief moment was each other. Then they had to leave each other, and Porcia kept her eyes on him until the last moment. Once gone, she looked straight into Caesar's eyes, trying to read him. For a while the pair stared at each other like enemies about to go to battle. An unspoken destiny passed between them in that moment. That moment would make doomsday for one or both of them.

The look didn't suggest that at the time though; Porcia even managed to master a polite smile, before turning to her Aunt Porcia to return home.

* * *


End file.
